Four a.m. by Lynsey Griswold
October 7th, 2009 | Published in Halloween Galore, Poetry
My second week on the reservation,
I dreamed of camping on the prairie with Lakota elders.
We shared stories, laughed into the night,
until I realized, quite suddenly,
that I had not brought a tent.
The others retired and I huddled under my thin blanket,
shivering alone on the hard-packed earth,
and watched the moon until…
…still dreaming, I woke
to the thud of buffalo hooves
— its shuffle familiar, as if from childhood—
on the ground nearby.
The hulking silhouettes of their backs
blotted out the clear sky
and the glow of the moon backlit the tufted curls on their shoulders.
The buffalo were moving slowly,
ignorant of my presence, snuffling at the dry grass.
I lay still, scarcely breathing, remembering the tales of trampled tourists who’d moved too fast. I will sit up slowly, I thought, careful not to alarm their potent hooves, solid tons of muscle, gunpowder horns. But my tiny movements startled them and they surrounded me, curious and quiet; their unfathomable eyes blinked down thoughtfully. It was as if they knew me. The largest of them positioned herself behind me, breathed my scent deep, and pushed me upward with a toss of her head, blowing a dusty breeze across my ear. I woke then, into the ringing darkness of the South Dakota night. I was sitting up, unafraid,
and her breath was still hot on my neck. The coyotes were howling somewhere outside, And I felt them then, at 4:00 a.m. — the widespread arms of peace.
I lay still, scarcely breathing, remembering the tales of trampled tourists who’d moved too fast. I will sit up slowly, I thought, careful not to alarm their potent hooves, solid tons of muscle, gunpowder horns. But my tiny movements startled them and they surrounded me, curious and quiet; their unfathomable eyes blinked down thoughtfully. It was as if they knew me. The largest of them positioned herself behind me, breathed my scent deep, and pushed me upward with a toss of her head, blowing a dusty breeze across my ear. I woke then, into the ringing darkness of the South Dakota night. I was sitting up, unafraid,
and her breath was still hot on my neck. The coyotes were howling somewhere outside, And I felt them then, at 4:00 a.m. — the widespread arms of peace.
Slow clap, clap, clap, clap. 
Comments