"On the Alaskan island called Little Diomede, Knud Rasmussen encountered an old woman living among the shreds of her life in a cold, dark cave. A diviner, she had seen many seasons come and go, and many lives pass as the seasons do."
Joan Halifax, Shamanic Voices
Now once again I have nothing to lose.
The shining brown kelp on the rocks
Is bright as my eyes,
clear and blank as the sky.
Lovers, daughters, sons
went as the tide breathes.
My blood was replaced by salt.
My flesh has grown dry as jerked meat.
There is nothing between me now
and the voices of stones.
You can see through me.
I can see through myself.
Poetess Lisa Yount lives at the northern end of San Francisco Bay, home of foghorns and seagulls.
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