today is the the day before the night
of my two-hundredth full moon
into my medicine pouch of talismans
go extra owl feathers, for wisdom
extra mountain goat fur, for luck
and extra mandrake root, for fearlessness
coming before the communal fire
I am stripped naked
and given new sandals of softwood

the hardness of my new shoes
so different from my usual
lovingly-crafted soft-skin mocassins
I fear will reflect the hardness
of the reality upcoming
my body is rubbed down with oils
the medicine man chants a prayer
and circles me four times dancing
dancing four steps every quarter-circle
stopping, he makes me inhale pungent incense
then points to our most sacred mountain
and says "you must reach the top in
six suns, or die trying, or die here
where you stand
as a coward, not as a man"
erasing the faces of my people
gathered around the fire, from my mind
I leave

I make the foot of the mountain at dusk
as a lover makes his loved one loved
the temperature drops with
the sinking sun
I find shelter in fermenting boughs
of a motherly fir tree


naked to the night and moon
the rising sun of dawn
brings my spirit rising with it
the cold of the night
had flogged my senses unmercifully
but the sun applies its balm to my wounds


my hunger cramps my enthusiasm
for my task ahead
eating pine seeds and wild roots
I feel squirrel fur grow on my back
for our diets and purposes in life are the same
survive and thrive, be alive, die only with dignity


the mountain peak being in view
I stretch my elastic limbs and eyes
and become mobile in the ankle-deep snow
the squirrel fur on my back
now matches eloquently
the snowshoe rabbits paws which were my feet


a cut in the mountainside
its wound healed my many seasons of weather
offers its windbreaking scar tissue
to a metamorphosed creature of the mountain
settling in, my animal parts are shed
like so much superficial adornment


I try to reflect back on the day past
but the intensity blinds me

From the old wound of the mountain
I fester myself at dawn
like an unwanted infection
in the steps of my ancestors
and in their honor
I silently pray to the mountain while walking


my body, young, strong
which my father made of bear muscle
starts to become weaker
as the very breath of life
becomes harder to purchase
with my coins of faint praise


my eyes, keen, beautiful
start protesting the presence of so much snow
with blanket of cold
becomes all I can see
even when looking at dark trees
or inside menacing caves


the brilliant heat of the sun
burns my naked chest
while blue snow ices my feet
fire from the almighty giver of life
seems no match
for the gentle giver of silent death


my windows to my mind recover enough
to register a boulder field of jagged
nature-made flint knives and axes
the hair stubbles of Mother Earth's shaved armpits
I stare at the thousand spear-pointed bearers
and they stare back, unflinchingly, daring me


the wisdom of the wooden sandals I wear
is matched only by my mistrust of them
"Oh, Mother Earth", I cry, "marshall your forces
forcefully not against me, not for me,
but only ignorant of me"
rocks chewing sandals like acorn bread, I make it

The trail of clock mainsprings
winds around chiseled edges
of the mountain breast
of Mother Earth
feeling the soft flesh
underneath my feet
I walk around the metamorphic
and igneous rock hair bumps
on Mother Earth's nipple


my erotic distracting fantasy
is rudely interrupted by the gnashing
of bone-sharpened teeth
which fill the menacing mouth
of a woebegone wolverine
though I am unarmed
he is ancient with age
which shows in the weariness of his eyes
we pass each other, unmolested


the deadliness of the cold
distracts me from noticing
that my eyes are turning white
everything I see
the light off the snow
bleaching my coal-black eyes
unseen, a frozen-over spring
asserts itself in my path
I fall, almost shattering its ice cover


though everything is pure white
I still can sense creeping blackness
as the oil lamp of the Sun
begins to flicker lickingly
burning all day, it's oil now almost gone
I find a bare, grassy spot near the trail
and being naked, begin to worry
if the fires of hunger in my stomach
will be able to keep warm the hearth of my soul

A cool morning breeze is inhaled
after sleeping through a fortunately warm night
some fiddlehead ferns are eaten for breakfast
and my thirst is quenched by the water
drawn from the frozen-over spring I almost fell into
my eyes being useful once more
a mother bear with cubs stares at me
from across the now-thawing pool
with such intensity that it freezes solid again
sensing non-existent danger to her cubs
she charges, swimming across the pool
making it to my side, charges still, running fast
I fleet away like a buck deer, making it to a tree
and begin to climb, but she runs fast to the tree
and starts to climb up behind me, catching me
she gives me a bear hug, and we both freefall

Waking up from the night of near-death
I try to rub the back of my head
but my joints and bones, nearly shattered
are frozen from the cold
a blackbird high above calls to all creatures
nearby
that I'm alive though just barely
hearing that
a family of buzzards breaks flight above me


my youthful rubbery limbs
finally find strength to move
the back of my head feels like pulp
though the skin is not broken
my chest bears witness to the bear hug
at an altitude of twenty feet
several gashes across my breasts
being continually repaired
by medicine men in my blood


as if navigating down river rapids
I reach for the ground
and stumble downhill
coming to rest at the base of a tree
hugging the tree with the determination
which that mother bear, now gone, hugged me
I slowly pry myself up from my serpintilian mime
and am finally up on two feet, not five hundred ribs


I wonder just for an instant, why I'm here
almost starving, freezing, and being mauled
to within an inch of going to the beyond
but then I remember the faces of my family
their pride in me
and understand truly why I must reach
the near-unreachable peak of the mountain
because that is what is expected of me

eating some ferns and seeds
I almost start running to the mountaintop
but the snowpack becomes nearly waist-deep
as thick as the air which is thinning out
my heart, like a diving hawk
almost burst from the tension


I slow down evermore
as the snowpack is now deeper
and as hard as river silt
almost touches the wounds on my chest
my legs become blue and bruised
from constant battle with the ice and snow


looking up to the sky in disgust
a narrow rock ledge
perched precariously on the mountainside
catches my attention
hoping for a way to the top
I dart towards it


though far away, I reach it quickly
catching my breath
I fearingly step on it, almost fall
but manage to catch myself
as several hundred small, loose rocks crash downward
hundreds of feet below me


looking up, the mountaintop seems close
but the only way to it is up
straight up a sheer rock face
which this ledge is but a small part of
the thought of climbing it frightens me
but remembering the snowpack, I don't have any options


surveying carefully the sheerness
of my mistress mountain's skin
I think aloud a plan of battle
take several deep breaths, then glare hard at the rock
and resolve to climb it or kill myself trying
rather than be a non-man in a world of men

the rock face has few pock marks
for me to grab to
long zig-zags I have to make
across the few blemishes I find
making slow, painstaking progress
it gives up ground only under protest


the rock, being
soft as skin, flaky
as bass scales
gives too easily under my weight
I stretch my body clumsily
and almost fall twice


my progress increasing
being many paces upwards from where I started
I notice a large bird nest on a crag
far from my present path, upwards, and to the right
hoping for nourishing eggs inside it
I begin to climb towards it


getting to the nest
I find eagle eggs inside
weak from hunger, I place a whole egg in my mouth
crushing it with my palate
swallowing the delicious yoke
spitting out the shell, I eat the others


my strength returned
I scale the face over towards the right
to where I am directly under the mountain's peak
the spirit of my ancestors
my pride in myself and in my traditions
swells like a burning boil


but remembering my task, quickly
I try to climb directly upwards to it
but the face is too slick
so I scramble like a needle across
the fabric of the breast-holder
zig-zagging, again, my way to the top

the slick dermis of the mountain breast
prevents safe foot-holds and hand-grips
I deny fear and push upwards
falling, I catch myself before the last second
push upwards again, cursing the mountain
which pushes me down again, my body
sliding, like obsidian on an ice pack
I catch myself with one of my ribs
catching a sharp rock projecting from
the otherwise slick jadeite surface
breaking my rib like a twig
cursing the mountain more than ever
I cry a cry of war and of pain
and, half-wailing, half-crawling, half-climbing
I scramble up the slope
like a squirrel up an elm tree
reach a point within arm's reach of the top
but can't reach it, nor can I see it

the ledge blocking my way, exhaustion setting in
I almost choose to die within three feet of my goal
but to dishonor my family is worse than death
reaching into the far corners of soma and psyche
I somewhere find enough strength to pull
my unwilling body over the ledge
to stand upright on the mountaintop
and claim my manhood

          Proclaiming to the world my manhood
         the sky opens up, becoming many colors
        multi-colored pinwheels spin slowly
       as death nearly takes me, I faint, and crumple
      to the ground in a heap
     awakening slowly, I see a group of people; my family!
   they tend to my wounds and clothe me, silently
  I am given food, then they all raise their voices in prayer
as my father welcomes me back into the family, as a man

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