A Cargo of Green Hearts
this is what I have learned from being a bear:
that I will move toward
the trap every time, even after the mangled
foot like a broken star
the buckshot-stung leg the scarified nose
a taste of honey is irresistible.
the instinct is this: to roar like a tuba
to bite the trap
to rip off the offending paw
and leave it as a dark fuck you
to the hunter. I have learned this as a bear.
I have also learned why there are no
three legged bears.
one would think, so the mind
now human slippery and clever
avoid the trap, bargain with the hunter
or disappear into the forest of
wild honey and shadows that close
like wombs around the old hunger
or seek out the red stag that will
drive its tines in my flesh for why not
at least meat, rich, red, is worth
the suffering honey will not quench.
this is what I have learned from being
human. I have also learned
that at the end of running
and struggle I will look into the
glass of my brown eyes and see
a three legged bear.
there is more, if you can stand
the thought of it. wait a moment.
settle down into the long
winter of your thoughts
digest the fat of your longing
go deep into the slow dreams that
will teach you. wait. listen
to the snowflakes touch
their small sensitive feet on this
and now, if I am at last
awake and ready:
I will admit finally
how every square inch of earth
is honey how every square inch
of earth is trap how the two
love each other like salsa dancers
love hips. there is no escape
that is escaping enough there is
no bargaining that is bargain enough
there is no anger shattering enough
there is no sorrow drowning enough
to wash this pattern away. what then
knowing this I put it to
you my trap, my honey
and I yours: what will we
be to each other now sad-eyed bears
or clever human beings
or something else. to enter
the trap willingly not drugged or howling
to move as quiet as oil through the
rust on its mechanism together
parts of a whole. there is no greater love
no shattering more complete.
a constellation was placed in the sky
to lead us beyond forgetting
when we have forgotten. a bear, a hunter.
to see it as two parts is to become lost.
the pattern was carpentered of light
by the Makers of Light. in the end
there is no pattern and the light,
the blessed light, is everything.
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