Which World

By Gary Lawless

There is a path
winding between Sitka spruce,
past totem poles stolen
from their island homes,
emptied of ashes and bones,
placed along the trail.
In the distance,
a volcano.
Raven flies
just above the surface of things, bald
eagle watching through
layers of air and water
for the fish
passing through,
shining in the cold
river like light
from another world,
everything moving, everything
moving to
come together, come together and
fall apart, again.
the water rushing.
the heart beating.
I am waiting for you
at the mouth of the river.