Wendigo

Dad-

I left my jacket at home.

It's cold out here and the

sky has gone dark. 

There's something following-

in the underbrush, the trees.

There's something out there-

calling my name, sounding like you.

There's something dead in me-

weighing me into mud, into shadow.

Dad-

I left my gun at home.

It's cold and I can't remember

the way back.

There's something watching-

from the thistles, from hills.

There's something coming for me-

wailing like wolves, like demons.

There's something empty in me-

crumbling into itself, into a cavern.

Dad-

take me home.

Author's Note

S.W.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Here in Michigan. The Wendigo lived in the Native American tale. The Wendigo, once human, after a bad Winter. Ate their own and became the devils of the forest. Ojibwa tale, only children can kill a Wendigo. Need a clear mind and heart. Only children have. Outstanding use of words dear Anna.
Coyote

[Bryan Sefton]

Wow! I had to stop reading and turn the light on and it's two PM!. Really enjoyed.

[Delmar Cooper]

Now, when alone and far from the one who could save, the one who always saved, we face aloneness, not peaceful solitude, fearful aloneness. Thank you for sharing.