Night Travels on Foot

by Limor Farber

In the dark.
In the snow.
Towing a sled.

I got used to the universe this way.
No headlight.
Owl eyes.

It wasn’t the land
I needed to know anymore –
I knew the track, traced and carved
by heart, memory, by feel
dips, turns
where a wheel got stuck last spring
the spot where elk herded and
a bull stared me off,
I begged with my mind..

I’m just passing through
your territory.

When he turned from me
his entire family looked back
down at the snowy land
and resumed moving
as did I
in my smallness
in all of this.

The entire land is small inside such nights
where I make everything haunted inside of
blackness my companion, little stars.
Where I am inside of a great mouth that eats
even fear – and cells are consumed
and regenerated into
nothing but energy and also
the everything of energy.

I am the night
forgetting my way
finding warmed breath
under blankets
with a fire lit
in an old wood stove.

There is no cold on snowy nights as long as
you stay moving, moving
How cold is it out there – in the silver of stars?
Like pinholes, icicles
so frozen my hand sticks to
peeling off skin
I forgot I had.

I’m here as long as I feel
flesh and bark and breath –
and into big mouth of a hungry night
I leave and return to emptiness
just long enough to
belong to everything again.

by Limor Farber | This story was created...

by Limor Farber | This story was created...

Philip Brautigam
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