Tuesday, 26 April 2011

antler by Arthur Durkee

antler bone found in the grass
speaks of lost deer rituals, their religion of seasons
and blood

dance of hoof and antler, horn and fur ruff
circle of apple trees full of bees
and the tender undying evergreens

horn-handed deer staff a dance ritual for young bucks
while old men sit blanket-wrapped watching
sweat-braced flanks they used to know

we rub our bodies with suet and red clay
we dance the deer in spring and autumn
becoming those bones found in the grass

edges of the field at dusk still full of bees
where deer stop to stare, then walk on
suddenly doubled with ghosts of the ancestors


Arthur Durkee, USA

6 comments:

Jade L Blackwater said...

I truly "hear" this poem --- and it sounds like a chorus of summer cicadas.

Lovely piece, Arthur.

JLB

mybabyjohn said...

I like this very much. Having trouble finding the words to express the feeling this gives me; I smell wood smoke and there is a vibration and a humming....

Dave Morehouse said...

I just took a walk through National Forest land on Saturday looking for 'sheds'. No antlers were found but I am headed out this weekend to look for Morels and perhaps will find 'sheds' then. I love the meter you carry through this poem. I can feel the old bucks wistful reminiscence. Nice work.

Krystal said...

This poem makes me think of the Native American Sun Dance Ritual. The 3rd stanza especially. It paints such a beautiful image, in my mind, of the ancient tradition. It symbolizes the cycle of life. I love this poem. It is absolutely beautiful.

C.M. Doran said...

religion of seasons....it goes on and on...to be passed on....lovely, thanks for writing

Marinela said...

Excellent piece of writing!

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