i am lost under train tracks and trestles,
under tree tops and over bridges.
i tightrope walk electricity wires
and the birds flutter from my feet.
i am far, far, away from my homeland.
the air does not taste the same,
the crows do not scream the same.
i sleep with cedar rooting around me.
a second shoe of mud grows around
my toes as i go.
i am wood burning fires in the winter,
smoke piping up from the chimney.
i, too, float up and disappear.
i have been lost now for sixty years –
the national parks did not find me.
i never made love with a compass,
without pine needles under my back
and steel grey storm clouds overhead.
take me, stormy summer sky.
love me, lonely winter mountains.
keep me, anybody. i am as young
as rings and trees and have so much to offer.
i fly off with flocks of crows
and you forget my name.
by mari jagt, 2018.