North, watching men stretch the hide,
the curve around wood,
the willow shoots for ribs
as if creating a body,
skin over wood
that might start to breathe,
that will pass through broken waters
away from searching ravens,
just like the ancestors
are there inside the curve of skin,
moving you, saying
May you know peace,
may you live in a world without weapons,
and remember, as you pass through
and across, wearing the skin of the animal
sitting with the tree, being the tree
that life flowed through
its bare roots for now not holding tight to earth,
remember the shore that surrounds a continent,
the history of life as it is spoken
along the edges, thresholds of all enchanted worlds,
the first ones say this,
pretending to be the breaking waves
and then you can set out, crying out
in all your full vigor.