Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser
She thinks the face of a moose is as sad
as the face of Jesus. But, Jesus didn’t look
sad when we met. And, the moose, he
was, I’d say, fully accepting of his awkwardness.
All my life, I’ve been trying to be that moose,
though, until now, I wouldn’t have said “moose,”
maybe “duckling,” because that’s the story I
remember being recited to me, repeatedly, during
an awkward childhood; they, perhaps, thinking it
a salve, but I’ve never looked and seen a swan
looking at me,
so when I saw him there, his fleshy proboscis
lipping shrubbery in the pouring rain of Denali,
his body his own and soaked in its true nature,
“This is magnificent! I am a moose.”
©2014-2015/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World"
To be published by Talking Waters Press...soon!
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