Whiteness Out of Place

At the heart of every creation is the need to connect. ~ Joy Harpo

Maybe it is just that.

I turn towards my colonized wilderness, my cave of silence, and ask, “what is this for?”

If every word written is an act of creation, a need to connect, then is every line and poem simply a refusal to know that one has everything one needs?

More accurately for me, the impulse to write has everything to do with love – uncovering, sharing, softening – and the poetry simply becomes a state of being.

*

I am in a yurt up north, located two miles down a dirt road, several acres into a natural forest. At night, piney beams raise their arms in exhalation towards the portal through which I can see a million pinpoints of starry light. The Great Horned Owl calls and responds and it lands as whisper into my gravid ear. All night there is only undisturbed darkness.

At 4 a.m., I heat the kettle for coffee and step out into the cedar air. The Eastern Whip-poor-will is the first to stake claim on dawn. It will be an hour or so before the Red-eyed Vireos, Robins, Cardinals and Chickadees join. The land speaks more clearly when distractions have been removed. Before 7 a.m., turkeys join the chorus.

As the sun climbs, I find a small clearing amongst tall grasses and put down my scarlet blanket. I strip while standing, piling my clothes neatly on the western edge of the tiny Shangri-La. My own nakedness is startling. My form and whiteness seems out of place against the deep greens of the meadow. The dog bounds into the woods, returning every so often to make sure I am present. She doesn't seem to notice or care that I am naked. What if that was true for every one, all the time? I like that state of mind.

*

On the last night, a pack of coyotes howled and yipped in the near distance. I thought about the chickens I heard earlier in the day and hoped that all livestock was secure. Although, given the sounds I was hearing, all did NOT seem to be well. The night before was more peaceful. I almost floated away.

At night

cannabis
the moon
and this spaceship

shooting me
into the galaxy

you visit
I let you in

almost all the way