Padding along cushioned unfamiliar
where fungi creeps unmolested along
fallen limbs from long-distant lake gusts
My blue gps dot with flashlight increments
the pixel-dashed trail scalloping the
inland lake to the marked ruin of tribes
and boys. Carved cold granite icon to
patriarchal rights of domains and souls.
Resting on the crumbling concrete base
of a dining hall that fed the damned
who sat quietly amongst the chattering
in dread of midnight vacuums of death.
I’d guessed – wrong – that a hunter’s
scope was on me. It was the ghosts.
Later, through googled clippings it
was learned that the old camp is
honored each year with a festival.
I wondered how many living dead attend?
I return and burn tobacco and sage; to honor,
to heal, and to dispell the black pall that falls
over this place.
Almost as an afterthought I snap her,
bright bauble, headed for rest beyond,
safe in welcoming freshwater ocean.
Last week I checked out a trail leading to some old Boy Scout camps that the State now owns that once was free roaming for Indigenous tribes in Michigan. It was only later I learned some of the history of the camps and that an annual festival is held at the ruins of the old dining hall for those who remembered the place fondly. As I walked out there, I got the distinct feeling of dread and being watched and guessed it was a hunter out there that was watching me in his scope. Now I believe it was the spirits of some of the boys who will never remember the place fondly. Their voices deserve to be heard.
Bjorn is today’s host for dVerse’ Open Link Night Live! This will be our last live event in 2021.
I’m also linking this to earthweal’s open link weekend #96.