The Rabbit Hole in Kanakomo
*This poem is inspired by my time at Kanakuk Kamps where campers were assigned to a Kickapoo or Kiowa tribe.
In-between the cabins near Lake Kanakomo,
with Kickapoos and Kiowas at war,
I remember
climbing up the wrungs of a red iron tower,
my bare feet on wood, frozen on planks,
faltering before the plunge then stepping
and regretting sucked into the cold
without choice by gravity or God No!
Have you ever felt the stomach-drop of failure?
The frigid hold of water all around?
It’s easy to forget how childhood discoveries,
can stick in skin like chigger bites
burning crisp red dots digging for kin
until you suffocate them with nail polish.
I reach for sun that spills through grey,
and scramble for the surface of a day.
I fall as one might down a rabbit hole.
I remember
mildewed swimsuits hung on clotheslines,
blue canoes piled by the lake,
vinyl bunks and trunks with home,
foggy mornings, coffeecake for church,
Last one there must scrape the plates!
Follow the Dipper to find the North Star
Red, yellow, red, yellow kills a fellow
Red, black, red, black safe for Jack.
Avoid the coral but save the Kings.
But all you know and own at eleven
isn’t enough to sort out truth and wrong,
the good and bad discoveries.
I remember
We surrounded a lifeguard stand
where the camp director, the Chief of all the land,
stood above us in a headdress and paint.
He spoke of battles great and far
that finally kindled like the fire of sun.
Then he proclaimed the Kiowas
or Kickapoos had won, (I don’t remember)
just cheering, roaring, chatter fading
then my name, he called my name.
As if I had never listened before that moment
I heard it run throughout my shaking frame.
The crowd turned, parting like a sea
for the chief to pass and reach me.
As he approached, I tasted a tangle
of nerves, worth, and lightning bugs.
But when he placed the beaded headdress,
the award of honor, in my palms,
I felt the cold stomach-drop of imperfection.
Within the smiles and bright lights blazing
I saw that failure lurks in shadows of success.
Aware of undeserving, I sunk within
sucked into cold by gravity or God No!
I reached for sun that spills through grey,
and scrambled for the surface of a day.
I fell as one might down a rabbit hole.
