Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
Sentinel Marked as if you own me I bow before the Bitterroots and just like you my rocky soil, my withered grass lays prey to the empty sky. © Kåre Enga 2007 "Sentinel" Reader's Choice of Poems: "'heart's home'" "Where grows the compost heap" "A radiant moon has set" "La Bella Vita" "Wheat penny" Reader's Choice of blog entries from my old blog "L'aura del Campo" : "Death of Jeannie New Moon" "Winter: 18 Mas'il (December 29)" "In a garden of roses, baby" "Tupac and more poetry" "Guitarman, a gift for Gary. Aaron Marable's art." FACES PLACES Kåre Enga ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop The Fish |
Bronze or silver would've been fine, even as a fourth son I could've been me. But I was the golden child, flaxen haired and smiley, albeit weak and half-blind. I fled to the margins, the seat next to the window or door, escape route noted before I entered. In my shell I was alert and wary. I seldom realized how unpopular I was. It took years for me to realize that the baseball team thought of me as their mascot. Maybe that was a blessing. Yes, I was the fragile golden child, protected, hid. Their highest hope and greatest disappointment. |
Once I looked into the bull's eyes, I knew I couldn't eat him. His tag said Moses. My older brother's pet ruled the pastures long ago, and now would be lead to slaughter. A bullseye emblazoned his hide. Moses quietly approached the fence and leaned into my hand when I went to pet him. We looked deep into each others eyes. I saw good hay, willing heifers and home. Home. What did he see? I started humming "Let my people go". I lead him down the ramp and kept on going. It was time for me to set him free. |