o great coyote, who am i?
who am i in this life and world and cast of creation? who am i as a piece of your desert empire?
we call you sk’elep.
my father knew you as wiisagazima’iingan
i know you as an image of creation, wisdom and cunning, trickery and joy.
i see you as one who taught love to the trees, who gives kinship and mischief in equal measurement.
i remember the first time i saw a coyote. I was walking home from work when i was just twenty or so. he saw me before i saw him, the young pup. he was still gawky and awkward looking. when i saw him and saw him seeing me, i stopped. he stood partially obscured by sage and dust and cigarette butts, looking a little hungry.
my breath stilled in my lungs and i wanted so badly to reach out for him.
i didn’t realize it as i crouched low in my pink moccasins that i was making cooing sounds. I don’t remember being afraid that he would hurt me. he was not sure i would hurt him.
when i crouched, he watched me, yellow eyes glinting in the desert heat and he dipped his head quickly like dogs do sometimes and studied me. he was curious but came no closer.
we just faced each other as time slipped by. i remembered the after school classes and the stories the elders told and i felt real special and a little sacred too as i held the gaze of sk’elep. he held mine in return.
we might have stared into each other for forever, but a passing car startled the pup and he whuffed and ran, his tail this image of light behind him.
he seemed to say, “oh, i know you”
but maybe i was just a troubled stoned kid with no direction tripping out on a walking path seeing things that didn’t mean anything. they always said i was a daydreamer.
but i saw him and he saw me.
i wonder if coyotes tell stories about us, if we are characters of myth or legend for them. do we teach lessons and impart wisdom? are we the villains swollen with greed and fire?
did he run back home to tell the others about me, like i tell you about him?
did he wonder about me?
was he studying me or simply sizing me up?
hoping for some food from my backpack or hopelessly fascinated with my dyed black hair and facial piercings.
i saw you, little pup, and i know you saw me.
did anyone see us in our seeing? creator? gitchii-manitou? god? was it just us?
o great coyote, who am i?
maybe you answer in song, yipping to the indifferent heavens in a language i do not remember.
do you hear me, little pup?
i want to know what you know
i want to know what god knows
hospital vespers 