The Path
between the thinning of straws
in the molden rocks the flowers of heavenly realms of
Spirits

come down go up and beyond My fathers veins
the bones and life’s death
carrying our ancestors hunting game
in the flashes of lightning snow
water
and meteorites calling

Oceans ice
thickening blood
of golden rocks
my sleds home
the path dissolves
time’s horizon in the news

thinning sight of space

I go
I leave behind

my mother’s beaded costume
in the dreary rain
of molden chains.