Bear

testimony for the bear

he waits nearby
he’s always there
he’s not my lover
he’s more than my friend

he showed me the high mountain pass
we will take to the sky,
to the spirit road home.
it’s the same mountain
in the drawing of the horse
my friend greg gave me, years ago,
after i had told him about
power animals. i was working
at the large white university then
and i had dreamt of the horse, tied, harnessed, blinkered,
pulling away, upset and afraid, and had told
greg the dream as we sat
eating lunch under the pines, a rabbit nibbling clover
nearby. i had told him the horse
was my body
and that the job,
despite the good money,
was making me sick. greg gave me
the drawing after i had finally quit,
after he had finally given up
trying to convince me to stay. in it, the horse is free, strong and unafraid.
the mountain is behind. greg was not my lover,
but he is my friend.

and him, when he showed me the mountain,
he wore a grey t shirt and dark blue gym shorts.
he looked like the guy who teaches
the kids in the city, or on the rez,
how to play basketball. drumming the ball up and down
on crumbled asphalt, pounded earth, a lonely hoop
bolted to a board up high. no net.
it was the first time
i had truly seen him. he’s big and dark,
big as a bear. his hair is cut short. we wear
the same scar. it’s clear no one messes with him~~

~~while i worked yesterday
i knew he was just outside
playing bones with the others
near the creek, and that later they filtered
over into the shade to fish.

he likes this old river town. it is full of his kind,
spirits who dearly love a place.
he likes to smell the water, to feel the green light falling
into alcoves of earth breathing out sweetness. so do i.
we are at peace here, our enemies have fled. and so
we call this place home, for now.

he’s been with me all my life
and only now that i am healed
can i see him
can i know with my heart he is there
can i know his joy too
and his need for me to be
okay

only now do i know
it’s because of him that dogs leashed to humans
trotting merrily up the hill
back away from me in alarm,
legs stiff,
noses twitching very carefully,
very deliberately.
they are thinking
maybe they’ll give me a bite.
i stay very still,
speak to them in soft tones of love. i try not
to show my teeth.

there are only two dogs who don't do that:
the akita, a bear himself, smiling and asian.
he looks at me appraisingly,
with something like amused respect
in his eyes.
and little annie across the road,
black and white boston wearing
pretty sweaters and a purple collar,
she lives with women who love her like a baby.
she knows nothing of bears and she sees only a kind woman
in me--

because it’s the bear they smell
and maybe even see,
the bear in me and
the spirit that is him.
we are united on this walk--
sometimes standing tall on two legs,
sometimes down on all fours--
picking our way through a broken
ugly world.
we are opportunistic
eaters, wary
of humans, solitary travelers
wending our way back
somewhere. only now that i am solid and whole,
do i know this.
only now that i know this,
do i feel solid
and whole.