The White in Me Speaks to the Inuit …. (another poem)

aya ya

burble burble spit

the image I have of you

chewing, quietly
squatting

I cannot touch the Silence you contain
You have so much more than Wisdom

you sit quietly
your almond eyes dreaming

I shiver in the cold
and wonder why
you and your people never came South

maybe it is the Light
maybe it is the Space
maybe it is this

Silence

You turn to me
and smile into my hunger
you do not talk
into my language
you just chew

and slowly, slowly, I begin to See
the great, great

Gift

that you are giving me