by Sarah Marcus
I’m supposed to learn some lesson.
I follow the wet meadow for miles,
face the mountains,
face the ancient alchemy of fear.
A bear follows me
as if I’m an injured animal.
I continue my passage South.
A deep bear sadness.
I wait and wait for the night to end.
In the morning the high scree
mountain fields are covered in bluebonnets.
On the shoreline of a shallow creek,
grizzly marks at the basin,
The boar closes the distance.
Read Sarah Marcus’ Mother: An Aggadah
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