More.

Doig, Milky Way, 1990

LOST in the MILKY WAY

Some of us are like trees that grow with a spiral grain

as if prepared for the path of  the spirit’s journey

to the world of all souls.

It is not an easy path.

A dog stands at the opening constellation

past the great helping hand.

The dog wants to know,

did you ever harm an animal, hurt any creature,

did you take a life you didn’t eat?

This is the first on your map. There is another

my people made of  the great beyond

that lies farther away than this galaxy.

It is a world that can’t be imagined by ordinary means.

After this first one,

the next could be a map of  forever.

It could be a cartography

shining only at some times of  the year

like a great web of finery

some spider pulled from herself

to help you recall your true following

your first white breath in the cold.

The next door opens and Old Woman

counts your scars. She is interested in how you have been

hurt and not in anything akin to sin.

From between stars are the words we now refuse;

loneliness, longing, whatever suffering

might follow your life into the sky.

Once those are gone, the life you had

against your own will, the hope, even the prayers

take you one more bend around the river of sky.

Linda Hogan