Poetry: CHANT

image source:    http://www.duncanmcfarlane.ns.ca/details/two_wolves_seated.html

CHANT
by Rebecca Rehfeld

He speaks
in a voice six centuries past
and tells me
that in his lifetime
I was lowborn,
not allowed to speak beyond
a nod or bow.
I served in silence
and helped the braves prepare for hunt
by smoothing warm bear grease
over their bodies
to ease the drag of animal hide against
their warrior backs
and thighs.

When I was old enough
I noticed him --
the tall one
wit the thick, black hair women
liked to touch,
and sanded voice
that left us drenched.
In silence, I watched
sun and shadow undulate
against the swell and hollow of his
long body
the way he swayed
when he talked to the wind
canted prayers for rain
and told us of things to come
with this wild drawings of two wolves,
circling

They said he was a soothsayer
living his last life
that he did not eat meat
had never known a woman
and spent his days cross-legged
in prairie grass
keeping vigil

In secret I visited his drawings
again and again
to trace their movements with my fingers
excited by the adventurous spirit of the wolves
until one day he came to me
both antelope and bear --
graceful, hard

We circled like wolves
until I came alive inside
and began to chant
to feel the ecstasy of my voice
the swell of vibration
and know the thrill of making sound.