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Finale II
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Tennessee Myth Alone I hunt
In the last winter of my life
Barren and cold the wasteland
Black bark trees, dead with winter,
Snow crunching under my grey paws
I am the wolf
I am the law
And by the law of strength I've lived
And by the law of strength I'm condemned
I meet my end
At the lake
When the ice cracks
Under my weight
I yelp as the frigid waters bite through my fur
As I bit through so many necks
A buck, a fox, a fish, a man
Pleased, I am, even in death
Not prey-slain
Or defeated by a young whelp
The elements herself
Closed her teeth around my neck
I fight, as I am meant to,
But age has set in
And I sink into the river
To the darkness at the end
From deceptively simple
From deceptively simple language, the poem creates a devestatingly poignant and philosophically compliex perspective. Your poem reminds me of something J.V.Cunningham, one of America's greatest Poets, said: that the best Poetry looks like it was easy to write, and is, in truth, too difficult for most people to write. This poem, like your other poems, meets and exceeds the Cunningham test.
Starward