Nomadic March
camel caravan
to the rising sun
after the revolution
eastward from Angora
into vast, untilled lands
and villages, where
bears dance among
ruins of empire
and carts pass
under a bridge
into deserts of salt
and storms of sand
seeking dusk refuge
stone walls, torches
and stories by fire
of tribes forgotten
then at dawn
a great gathering
camels march again
to a mountain fortress
an evening blaze
of skewered goat meat
and shared tobacco
a night of snowfall
then onward east
countless legs
into a land of
tents, tribes, herds
weaving and grazing
the chief arrives
with a rifle and pipe
to speak of the
withering sun
as animals pick
parched, dying earth
now, says the chief
we must go east
to grassy meadows
pull down the tents
thousands gather
animals packed
hooves to open land
over rough hills
over stones, through dust
to a bridgeless river
goat skins inflated
make-shift rafts
all must cross
goats bound, sheep herded
heads bobbing in the
ice-cold current
and men scream
in deadly rapids
yet sheep scurry
and horses step
onto the shore, where
rafts are unloaded
and yet ahead
mountains of ice
flocks forward
a goat on cow-back
pushed among rocks
toward life
shaggy goats
on a steady slog
a girl carries a calf
over jagged stones
upward and over
a dreadful ridge
to panoramic snow
to cross on foot
a fast, shallow stream
of bitter cold
driving flocks
as clouds seep
over mountains
cotton shoes removed
barefoot into snow
cutting a path
a flute player
in vigorous spirit
feet and hooves
by thousands
hour upon hour
great, winding lines
onward or perish
against the frost
vanguard of picks
and shovels
dogs to the summit
bloody feet on snow
women carry cradles
forward to hope
until at last
downward
into a new world
of vast meadows
ruminant paradise
they raise the tents
after forty-eight days