I am from a land of naught, barren wastes of sharp peaks, valleys so deep you can't escape, a bitter cold you'll never shake
Mount Susitna in her slumber watches me, Lady Aurora dances overhead, the Matanuska flows through my veins, the silt blowing from her feet into my lungs
Glacial streams have carved me out, water so cold and blue, it's unreal, soaking my bones, look beneath my skin, dive into my heart, feel its chill, it's threat
Eyes green as moss, as mold, as the lichen the caribou search for in the tundra, in the woods, as the dead grass on the side of the road as the snow begins to run-off
Excuse me, for I was raised by moose standing among the trees, black bears crossing highways in the night, eagles screeching, salmon spawning, one of the world's fastest tides
Beware the Keelut, malevolent dog tracks that vanish in the snow, the Tornit and his foul smell, The People-Stealers who sing a poor birdsong to lure, and whatever you do, don't wander into "the triangle"
This is where I belong, descended from government contracted potato farmers and immigrants who fought and lived through war, birthed in the cradle of mountains, hovered upon even when I'm gone, always returning home to their hold, captured by my mind, my soul
I've made it out, been dragged back in, I was born of this, raised in this, driven by survival insticts not thought, the cold has set in and I found every where else unfit to live
