Song of a Waterman
I own no memories of our journey to the sea.
Those belong to Captain Clark and Father, not to me.
But spirits of the wild lands claimed me anyhow,
Seared a mark upon my soul, like some unspoken vow.
Shoshoni legend says, what eyes touch in their first season
Determines where feet follow, on reaching age of reason.
So I’m related to the waters, that’s where I began.
Rivers wore my edges smooth as I grew to be a man.
Clark’s compadres were all resolute and ready men.
Such is my case. I’ve joined the ranks of my kind again
Seeking chance and challenge, with danger in between
Each long and lonely landscape; a quest for the unseen.
Sleep eludes me in your cities, whether fine or fair
So I lie beneath tall pines in frosty mountain air,
Or on dry desert sand, under sky that never ends.
I camp down in willows where a wild river bends,
Rushing headlong in its flight, blending with another,
Then on to touch the tide and greet its ocean brother.
In that world across the waves men play at bravery.
I left them to it gladly, and now I too run free.
They fashion careful lives; while I wander, weary and cold,
Ragged, but content, among companions true and bold.
Our days sometimes dangle on a whim of fortune’s turning,
For in the doing or the dying, we leave our bridges burning.
c Lyn Messersmith 2/2002
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