I was so lost I found myself
out there in the sagebrush
taking coyotes seriously.
Their instructions involved
smoothing the sand out,
sifting through desert detritus
with my fine-toothed hands,
searching for bones shattered
by cavalry carbine bullets,
unspeakable tragedies still unspoken,
and stories no one would tell me.
I blew on the earth,
trying to rekindle the sparks
of the land’s memories.
I begged crows to translate
the wind’s whispers. And,
of course, I did everything
the coyotes asked of me.
Nothing happened.
You cannot get blood from stone,
no matter how hard you hope
crushed gravel is different.
Turns out, when spilled blood
soaks into parched dirt,
it never gives it back.
And why wouldn’t the desert
be a lot like everyone else?
When you’re dying of thirst,
you drink whatever you’re given.
Will Falk is a biophilic activist, author, and attorney. The natural world speaks and poetry is how Will listens. His law practice is devoted to helping Native American communities protect their sacred sites and cultural resources. He is the author of How Dams Fall and When I Set the Sweetgrass Down.. You can follow his work at willfalk.org.