Read Online Runaway Dreams by Richard Wagamese - Free Book Online Page B

simple,
    the ordinary, the commonplace and seeing magic in it.
    You’d make that journey anytime and the wonder of it lies
    in bringing others with you, sharing it, offering it to other
    travellers lost without a light. So you stand looking upward
    at the sky together then, the awe you feel in bringing energy
    together, the sacred circle of you, joined by an everyday glory
    you only need to breathe to recognize, to haul into you to
    join, to hold in your chest like a wish that frees you. Great
    wheel, spin, spin.

Nets
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    you stand on the shore
    of the Winnipeg River
    and watch the old men smoking
    laughing and mending nets
    their hands moving
    almost by themselves
    and when they look up
    and see you there
    they smile
    their hands continuing
    the dance they’ve learned
    by touch
    Â 
    this is what it means
    to be Indian, you say, Ojibway
    the effortless, almost mindless
    mending of the nets
    we cast across
    the currents of time

Powwow
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    See them dance
    against the slow
    and even movement of the sky
    so that to the eye
    colours shift against
    the grass and the drum
    and the rattle of elk teeth
    the swish of shawl, and the clatter
    of bells on leggings becoming
    the smile on young kids’ faces
    and the wistful grins of the old ones
    sitting back in wheelchairs now
    wishing they might dance again
    to join the whirling, swirling, stomping, glee
    of this great wheel of regalia danced
    so that energies might become a blessing
    and a prayer bestowed upon this sacred earth
    where a simple song sung with drums
    sends waves of light across
    the universe to that spiritual place
    where we all began our journeys
    toward this place
    where it all comes together
    like a vision that travels in
    a circle of prayer
    to encircle all who
    come
    here
    now

Trickster Dream
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    Crow came to my room last night
    dressed in a checkered western shirt
    and boots and jeans too tight in the rump
    so that he squawked soprano
    and groused vociferously
    about the lack of a proper avian line
    Â 
    he’s hip to things like that
    Crow gets around, you know
    him and Coyote, well
    they’ve been known to carouse
    something awful in the streets of Milan
    and even though no one likes
    a knock-down loaded Trickster much
    they’ve got a fashion sense to die for
    all that fur and feather accessorizing
    to go with the Pucci (Coyote’s call) scarves
    and the Salvatore Ferragamo calf-skin
    bag that Crow adores because he
    can’t hack the shoes
    (they don’t call them crow’s feet for nothing
    is how he says it)
    Â 
    anyhow, Crow was on the lookout for Raven
    whom he’d heard had been seen
    in the vicinity and needed
    some advice on metaphor or allegory
    aphorism or some such Trickster trick
    because he had a gig in Kasabonika Lake
    and them Oji-Crees up there
    had heard all his schtick before
    and the kids were even using
    his best lines in the schoolyard now
    Crow was after belly laughs
    and Coyote couldn’t help much with that
    on account of he always wanted
    to make them howl
    although he did have some of the
    snappiest zingers in the Trickster biz
    and Crow himself had busted a gut
    every now and then when Coyote
    let loose with those moonlight
    prowl stories of his
    Raven knew the ins and outs of Trickster-ism
    he’d even hung with the big guys
    Nanabush and Wesakechak
    creating mayhem in a tamarack bog
    and driving the local Cree kids wacko
    just before they drove south in
    a battered ’57 Chevy
    to dig the crazy Cajun food
    in N’aw Lins before Katrina
    Â 
    so he knew a thing or two
    Â 
    Crow hopped from the dresser
    to the window ledge and fluffed
    his inky feathers in the moonlight
    and laid the full force of his
    beady obsidian eyes on me
    and cackled and croaked
    and wondered if we had
    any jalapeno-stuffed olives in the house
    or the new Black Crowes CD
    because Tricksters gotta stay hip
    you know
    it’s where the best bits come