comfort language part one

(little cairn, one of the campus 'waterfalls')

(rock in the midst of the same waterfall)

comfort language, part one (very drafty draft)

how maia told me about her dying
father, how he struggled for words
in his last moments, how he
was so restless, mouth a mask,
that silent o:

& how she couldn’t think
of any words he would understand,
(english a long forgotten shoreline)
she hunted for the yup’ik words to say to ease
his pain –

but words drowned in the mouth of the kuskokwim,
no sound in the stretch of mudflats, beaver-tail tongue
thudding in her throat –

he passed away, she said, &
there was nothing i could say to him.
he was so lonely,
like raven, when he was creating
the world –

all the other little mud-people, the strange creatures
like tigers & horses & palm trees
they spoke different language than him,
so raven scattered them all over the earth –

but i’ve got to find the yup’ik, he said
i need to gather up their words, dive
for them, swallow them singing,
the only ones i understand --

that’s when i knew i had to go
she said, to carry that yup’ik home
i need to find words again, breathe
life into their muddy hibernation,

then aata will hear me from heaven
& maybe he’ll be less alone