There Is No Such Thing As A

Veils Of Love Which Was Only Hate Petrified By Longing--that Was Me.

By Writing I Can Live In Ways That I Could Not Survive.

Coming Down Off The Trail, I Am Lost In My Own Thoughts And Unprepared When A Bear Chugs Across The Path Just Before It Gives Out On The Gravel Road. I Am So Distracted That I Keep Walking Towards The Bear. I Only Stop When It Rears, Stands On Hind Legs, And Stares At Me, Sensitive Nose Pressed Into The Air, Weak Eyes Searching. I Have Never Been This Close To A Wild Bear Before, But I Am Not Frightened. There Is No Menace In Its Stance; It Is Not Even Curious. The Bear Seems To Know Who Or What I Am. The Bear Is Not Impressed.

There Is A Legacy Of Violence Against Native Women That Has Gotten Worse And Worse Over Time.

How Come We've Got These Bodies? They Are Frail Supports For What We Feel. There Are Times I Get So Hemmed In By My Arms And Legs I Look Forward To Getting Past Them. As Though Death Will Set Me Free Like A Traveling Cloud... I'll Be Out There As A Piece Of The Endless Body Of The World Feeling Pleasures So Much Larger Than Skin And Bones And Blood.