The Island- Part oneA Chapter by Coyote Poetry A dream turned story. The Island I am sitting alone near Lake Huron in Port Austin in late 2020. My mind found a memory and I am trying to seek the memory out from hidden parts of my mind. I dislike my mind now. My mind had forsaken me. I am 62 years old and the eleven anthrax shots and 300 malaria pills had stole my memory. Sometimes I can't tell the truth from fiction. Maybe the memory of the island was a utopia type dream? It was early 1989 and I was barely staying above water in health and mind. I went to the funeral of my brother who committed suicide. My second brother in two years who left my world without a goodbye. Their death made my life fruitless and useless. I decided to take a drive, I went north toward Lake Michigan. I followed the backroads till I found the bridge to Upper Michigan in my view. I saw a small sign, "Welcome to Idyllic, a place where no-one is rushing and the lake is around us." I took the turn toward Idyllic and after a short drive. I saw a long bridge, maybe two miles in length. The bridge was ancient and beautiful. The bridge had Greek art on the walls of the bridge. You could walk the bridge if you wanted, a walkway where you could see the lake Superior moving and dancing. This was a idyllic place and I already understood why they called her by the ancient name. I drove the bridge slowly, enjoying the view of Lake Superior and the artwork on the walls of the bridge. At midway of the bridge, a turnoff. I turned into the turnoff and left my truck. Many cement statues of ancient Native Americans dancing and looking at the lake. Each one, had some poetry. I read the poetry on a Ojibwa woman statue. "Utopia We seek everything, we want to be the king of the forest. One day we learn. We have enough, we have the trees, the water and the wildflowers. We have our children, our family and friends near. The utopia of a fine life. Being happy with enough." I went to my car and I felt lighter in mind already. I foresaw a wonderous place already. Idyllic was already making my sleeping mind come alive. I wanted to stop and write but I had to discover what this place was offering to me. The small island seem lightly in population and very quiet. I drove till I saw the downtown area. A four block square of small cottages, bars and restaurants. I saw few people roaming the city. It was noon and I searched out for some food. I walked the city and everyone I met, said good afternoon or hello. Most of the people were young and they looked content. They were lightly sun-kissed by the warm Spring weather. I found a restaurant with many lunch specials. A pretty red-hair waitress introduced herself. My name is Luna, welcome to Luna's heathy and tasty foods. Would you like something to drink? I told her, the corn-beef sandwich and a coffee please. She smiled and she told me. Welcome to Idyllic, I hope you enjoy our island. She brought the food and the coffee and she told me. A music festival at the park, all day, into the evening. I hope you have time to enjoy. I believe you would like. A little Jazzy and some folk songs too. Enjoy the food and thank you for stopping in. The sandwich was wonderful, the corn-beer melting in your mouth and the coffee. Strong and tasty. I paid the bill and I told Luna. Thank you for the amazing food. She smiled, looked deep into my eyes. She told me, please try to have some fun. Sometimes, we must slow down and figure what we need. I left her and she watched me walk away. I was her only customer. She told me to walk five blocks on the main street , the only street, she laughed and she told me. Can't get lost in Idyllic. The park dead-end at the lake and the lake Superior had a wonderful view. I saw many people sitting near the center of the park. You could see Lake Superior and I was already in love with the city. The set-up was ancient Greek style. The soft chairs settle into a cement, was nine layers of seating. Every chair had perfect view of the stage. Someone had a perfect vision to create a place where music could be appreciated and performed by skilled musicians. I sat away from people. The people were beautiful, most were young, the women wearing Spring and Summer dresses, the men were wearing shorts and t-shirts. The few older people, were healthy, looked strong and they were alert. The music was wonderful, a pretty woman sang the Jazz songs. I wrote in my journal. Idyllic Lakeside city, honored by the gods, pretty people and good song. A blessing for the people needing peace and salvation. Dear Idyllic. A needed blessing in my world of confusion. I looked-up and a pretty woman in her Spring dress, showing tan shoulders, beautiful face and eyes of wonder. She asked, dear Salinger, sitting alone, barely can hear the songs. Are you hiding or seeking? I smiled and I told her. Maybe both, us Salingers, we like to be ghosts among the living. Maybe a place of safety or maybe. Need to find some silence? She looked sad and she asked. You want me to leave you alone? I reached-out my hand and I told her, my name is Johnnie. Please stay and talk with me. I need voices, not silence. She took my hand and she told me. My name is Nicole, a artist, healer and masseuse, herbalist and singer. I told her, I am a want-a-be Hemingway, slave for a big company and looking for something worthwhile to live for. She smiled and she whispered. The song is better in the front, I have some sweet red wine and you can join me and my sister Lana. We may talk you to death, but we wouldn't mind, if you joined us. I smiled and I told her. Thank you Nicole for being kind to a stranger. I do need some good company today. Nicole took my hand and dragged me to the front. A girl with long brown hair was making the jazz come alive. A beautiful woman stood-up with eyes of hazel green, flowing brown hair down her back and a kind smile. She introduced herself. My name is Lana. Welcome to Idyllic, where life is pretty slow and we like it, slow. Please sit down and share our five bottles of red wine. The music is played till 12 pm. I thanked them and Nicole handed me a glass of wine. She raised the wine glass-up to the sky. To new friends, better days and more laughter. We touched glasses and I looked at Lake Superior. I did a private prayer. Thank you Lord of life and death. Allowing me to land in the proper place. Dancing Coyote
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Coyote PoetryMIAboutA Poet and writer who love to read and write. My pleasure is reading about the bad and good in a life. Also to honor the Poets/Writers of the past by reading their words. Remember .. more..Writing
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