by Tom Bacig
©1994, 2004
By the way,
It turns out,
The middle way,
The Métis way,
Is the Milky Way
The spirit way
The way of the ancestors
Tchipayuk
The way of the wolf
Running from
Fumane Cave
Through Phonecian Carthage
And Ligurian Genoa
To and from
Pian dei Preti,
The plateau of the priests,
Priests of Baal, Isis,
or Cerunnos
Through the land of the Santoni
Home again for 1900 years,
Until, at last,
Driven out of the slate quarry
By passion and
Dreams of the golden land
Sponsored by padrone Guduto
To Jackson Street, the store
And ...
From Chauvet-Pont d'Arc cave
To wooded Saintonge
Land of sauvage
Santoni, Albagensians,
Beguins, Hugenots,
Assorted heretics,
Across the Atlantic
To the valley of Fleuve Ste Laurent
To Concepcion
To Christian Island
In Huronia
Through an Ursuline
Convent in Quebec
Up the Great Lakes
To Michilimackinac
And the Apostles,
La Pointe and Chawaumegon,
To La Court Oreilles
And Folle Avoine.
Or, maybe,
Out of Fond du Lac
Down the St Croix,
To Turtle Lake
Across to the Snake,
West and North
By ways too numerous
For naming
To Winnipeg, and
By cart, back again,
To the St. Paul Cathedral
Where Tomasso of the
Kissing Wolf clan
And Gertrude of
The Santoni who
Like the rocks,
Endure
Joined trembling hands
Closing the circle Caesar
Opened when he crossed
The Alps with his
Civilized
Celiticized
Romanized
Ligures
Bringing civilization
To savage Santoni.