Albat-witch

I had been

unsure of the way

I would find you;

being so private

and unassuming

in your footfall on

this place - in your

footfall on our dirt -

yours and ours.

I have looked 

behind the shadows 

of the carved out rock; 

along the niches and 

outcroppings of the 

largest exposed anticline 

on the East Coast.

Wondering what has

called you here and 

kept you in its grasp - 

as we ourselves are

bound in yours.

"The Block", "The Cave",

and the "Riverview Ledge" 

do not scare me off, 

nor the "Ape Call".  

I am all over this 

"Trail Valley" in

hopes a chance our

eyes might meet. 

In and out and all along

this Lower Cambrian Chickies 

Quartzite I wander looking

for some sign, smelling for

some scent.  Today, I thought

I was getting closer as the

turkeys in the brush let me know

none had yet molested the trail,

none had yet disturbed the soil.

And yet, you did not 

emerge - slowly - from the shadows.

I will rise again, and again, 

and yet again; reading the land 

for your mark upon her breast.  

I will woo you from

your spaces with apples 

and my sitting still among the

shadows of the rocks -

a gentle visage on my face

and a heart of innocence 

- no intent of harm.

I will wait, our brothers

for you to climb off the

shields of our Native Peoples.

I will wait, our sisters

for you to rise up off the 

petroglyphs they carved.

I will wait 

until you feel yourselves

safe enough 

to make yourselves known 

in this crazy, racing,

modern age 

that we call home.

I will wait, and always hope.

Knowing.  Knowing.  Knowing.