This American Solstice
by Will Falk
Light, made stronger by the dark,
flows from the half moon,
and makes the long journey down
to dance with her bright kin, the flames
leaping from a thousand bonfires.
Druid whispers are almost audible
as they scatter from groves of ancient, murdered oak.
The whispers ride coffin ships and railroad cars
to diasporize across oceans and a continent
seeking the children of those
they once taught to understand.
Now, only the shadows comprehend.
And, where the shadows flicker,
stag heads shift into wolves
singing to the stars.
Stars gather into flapping eagle wings
descending into salmon tails
churning cold, emerald streams.
Streams swirl around strong trees
rooted in the land that creates all of this.
But, it’s a different darkness, here,
on this American solstice.
The stories are difficult to recognize.
We are generations
and too many forgotten languages from home.