Reflection

by Tricia Elliott

 

Human,

we heard you coming –

the tangled, grumbling footfalls

drumming the still soft ground,

exhales trailing in clouds.

 

You stopped,

crouched near,

staring

naming

another’s

bones

 

nested in goldenseal,

bunchberry, moss;

these long metatarsals,

phalanges like knobs,

flesh free,

hare furred,

whiskered in frost.

 

Stories sift between us –

your own

death

mirrored,

dust across our

bones.

We find no

shame  

in death, or decay –

in tales of control, lost.

Life

wins

every

time.

Nameless it teems, shifting

unbroken,

a perfect reflection,

always.

 

Life

is

yours.

That clear light –

whirling within, and all around us –

that is what we see.

 

Shame is just dirt

on the mirror.

TRICIA ELLIOTT

Tricia is an emerging writer who lives in a yurt in Alaska with her husband, two girls (ages seven and nine), and two dogs. She is an odd combination of physician and mystic, teacher and perpetual student, wilderness enthusiast and advocate of human nature. She finds joy in tracking wildlife, photographing the sublime, and endeavouring always to live and love and play like her dogs do, every day.

Read more from Tricia:

Migration

Words with Poet Tricia Elliott by Lis Mesa