Arctic Dream
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Descending through the bruised blueness
Of fresh arctic sky, in these moments
Before landing, I am beginning to discover
A new self buried in the Inupiat earth,
Under centuries of ritual and prayer.

I am again looking for answers to questions
That seem to reach across the tundra
As far as the eye can see. I am learning
The ancient art of rhythm and balance.

The wind is a new truth.
It changes like the sun’s position
In the midnight sky,
Horizon hurrying west, never
To find dusk at the earth’s edge.

Barrow, AK

by M.L. Liebler, from The Moon a Box, New Issues Poetry & Prose
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