Madman

When the Haida heard him and found him in the woods

Shouting at trees and bushes

As if they were enemies and saw him scowling

At the sky and his own body and saying out loud

The forbidden names of the dead and saw him turning

And dancing on stiff legs and opening

And shutting his mouth, biting the air

And eating it, they gathered around him

And held him, shook him, and shook their heads

And told him they were sorry. They rubbed his shoulders

And smoothed his hands and arms

And his quivering back while the Dreamer

Went to the river and brought uprooted strands

Of white-water crowfoot and tied them

Around his neck. They left him there

Still staring and dancing, still shouting

At everything he could name around him

Or at what he couldn't name or at nothing

After the moon rose. But beginning

Deep in the night, the crowfoot hanging

Against his breath, against his heart,

Held him still, quieted him, and told him

To sleep now and to wait till morning,

Then go with it to the river to remember

Their roots in water, themselves floating,

Themselves knowing their pathways, themselves

Quick, themselves again in the light.