It was an unrestful night as I reached inside my morals and pondered my role in this theater called Earth.
Many warriors were called up to a battlefield, in a grove of old growth trees. Suspended in the top of the forest canopy by ropes and determination, illuminated only by the moon. I longed for the morning, the sunshine and the crow, but La Luna was only halfway through her shift, so there sat I, immersed in moonlight, scared but anxious. Finally time’s liquor called fatigue pulled me into sleep as I passed over the threshold of a dream.
Inside I saw a massive pile of bodies a hundred feet into the air. Squirming, fighting, and clawing, on their way to get to the top of the heap. Some had clothing adorned with jewels, others at the bottom had none, yet they all possessed sorrow and tribulation. Above them a gold carrot dangled just out of reach, projecting the anti-light called selfishness. Gouging, tearing, vomiting, cursing at each other without care, they fought upwards. Inside I saw some friends, I yelled come away, get out, I begged, I cried…then hands I knew reached out in desperation; I grabbed with all my strength, but I could not pull them away, I could not save them. I failed, I fell down, and then flat on my back, and only then did I truly pray.
I awoke from my dream, from the cry of brother crow. Once he had my attention he flew off the mountain towards the city. I don’t know why but I rappelled down to the floor of the grove and followed him with my friend, a dog named Turtle. When I arrived in the city, I smelled of campfire smoke and the forest. My cloths were adorned with clay, and tree pitch, my hair unkept. I was first received by men with uniforms and guns who with discerning looks asked “what’s in your pockets” and “we need to see some identification,” and they circled around me in numbers, so I revealed all the contents of my person, places, and things. Two pinecones, a compass, some dog food, a broken feather, and a bedroll and Turtle's water dish. They seemed really disgusted with me and called me a filthy hippie, then one of them took notice of my dog and said, “Does your dog have a license.” I said no he doesn’t even own a car, he hitchhiked here with me! But that obviously wasn’t the reply he was looking for. So with a strong look of disapproval he said, “got ya.” He then informed me that he was writing me a “notice of exclusion” from Waterfront park, and so for the crime of not having a licensed dog I was not allowed on the new esplanade (fancy word for a dock) or in Waterfront park for 30 days. So much for civil rights.
The cop told me to leave, but he said “see you around kid.” So, bewildered of my fine reception in this city I exited the park “el’ prompto.” As I wandered thru the city I noticed an inscription on a big bronze plaque, that read, “The riches of this city are its people.” And although it made perfect sense to me, Turtle and me had no home or license, so I felt that me and my companion possessed no value to Portland.
The crow flew over head again chased by the dusk, so I surveyed the skyline, concrete surrounding us, we sojourned thru the city looking for a place to lay our heads. Finally we stumbled onto a grassy field, I laid out my bedroll said my prayers fed Turtle and then went to sleep. La Luna watched over us but could not protect us. I slept uneasy and I felt the presence of a predator. Turtle growled, and I heard a voice commanding “grab your dog or I will shoot him” and “get up and keep your hands were we can see them.”
Half asleep I complied with their demands and gathered Turtle by his collar, at that point in time they told me to “roll your bed up and get out of here.” I replied “where should I go,” answered by, “quit being a smartass, I don’t have time for your bullshit,” quote, unquote.
Once again I was on the move without a sense of dignity at 4 o’clock in the morning. I was in a zombie-like state, wandering around the city looking for a place to sleep. With no place to lay my head, I walked around but only found the sunrise, so I sat down on the sidewalk and prayed for god to deliver me from peril. As I was sitting there a newspaper blowing in the wind flew into me. I picked up the paper and the headline read “Palestinian homes bulldozed.” It was at that moment in time I realized I was an Ameristinian without a place to lay my head.