The poems themselves seem to bridge a psychic divide between the horror of past predation and the solace of a future life. In the poem The Path Weaver describes his trek into an alternative peace this way,
for the way water soaks into the skin in the thunder,
listening for the sound of the eagles circling
above the lost children of wild pigs or what can be
caught and carried in the talon. My hands are
not free, too busy with trying to keep cover
on my head. The stones have another meditation,
a kind of counting to music. Touch me, they say,
and a thousand stone paths will make their way to me.
rain of mountain springtime was suspended,
I walked this path to the dream of where we live.
For more of my review of The Government of Nature go here: http://dougholder.blogspot.com/2013/03/the-government-of-nature-by-afaa.html
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