The Fallen
It was the night
a comet with its silver tail
fell through darkness
to earth's eroded field,
the night I found
the wolf,
starved in metal trap,
teeth broken
from pain's hard bite,
its belly swollen with unborn young.
In our astronomy
the Great Wolf
lived in the sky.
It was the mother of all women
and howled her daughter's names
into the winds of night.
But the new people,
whatever stepped inside their shadow,
they would kill,
whatever crossed their path,
they came to fear.
In their science,
Wolf as not the mother.
Wolf was not wind.
They did not learn healing
from her song.
In their stories
Wolf was the devil, falling
down an empty,
shrinking universe,
God's Lucifer
with yellow eyes
that had seen their failings
and knew that they could kill the earth,
that they would kill each other.
That night
I threw the fallen stone back to sky
and falling stars
and watched it all come down
to ruined earth again.
Sky would not take back
what it had done.
That night, sky was a wilderness so close
the eerie light of heaven
and storming hands of sun
reached down the swollen belly
and dried up nipples of a hungry world.
That night,
I saw the trapper's shadow
and it had four legs.
