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More poems by William StaffordWilliam Stafford | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments | Books by William StaffordBooks by William Stafford

Returned To Say

William Stafford

When I face north a lost Cree
on some new shore puts a moccasin down,
rock in the light and noon for seeing,
he in a hurry and I beside him

It will be a long trip; he will be a new chief;
we have drunk new water from an unnamed stream;
under little dark trees he is to find a path
we both must travel because we have met.

Henceforth we gesture even by waiting;
there is a grain of sand on his knifeblade
so small he blows it and while his breathing
darkens the steel his become set

And start a new vision: the rest of his life.
We will mean what he does. Back of this page
the path turns north. We are looking for a sign.
Our moccasins do not mark the ground.


Submitted by Bakari Thomas

Added: 2 Jun 2002 | Last Read: 19 Oct 2018 11:13 AM | Viewed: 5080 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/4571/ | Viewed on 19 October 2018.
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