Maple Leaf Messiah

image borrowed from bing

Maple Leaf Messiah

“Your heartbeat sounds like Sasquatch feet,

thundering, shaking the concrete.”

--Biggie Small

Did you never consider that we visit you

in your waking dreams?

Do you think it was an accident

that we fueled the imagination

of George Lucas, and that then

he patterned the Wookies after us,

allowing Chewbacca to pilot the

Millennium Falcon with ease?

I am a Watcher.

We are omnipresent

and have been your companions

from the first wiggling larva state.

We are a cosmic mosaic of inter-dimensional surfers

and active intergalactic time liberators.

To us all men are mixed bloods,

their true ancestry mandated by edict

to remain a dark mystery within a mystery.

We were the first of the Watchers.

We co-exist in a joint effort with all your

other visitors, sharing in the commitment

to your eventual advancement,

and some of the responsibility

for many of your foibles. 

We live a thousand years.

My sire stood in the crowd at Calvary.

We step from yesterday to tomorrow

with ease, passing through your todays 

but rarely. 

We know our visage can be frightening.

We certainly do not look anything like

the skinhead store mannequins seen

as Watchers on FRINGE.

You have carved our likeness

on your totem poles.

We are hirsute, ten feet tall, & weigh half a ton,

are the perfect combination of primordial splendor

and technological proficiency;

like the messiahs of legend

we take corporal form when we wish,

but vanish through portals when necessary;

knowing that our sightings can cause crisis,

disputes, & controversy.

Our vehicles have always been beyond stealth,

mostly invisible, insuring that our aerial surveillance

of your various events remains undetected.

We have walked among you from the beginning,

crossing Beringia with some of you

when it was a wide grassland steppe,

watching the early horses & camels migrate east

while lions & men migrated west.

So the Yukon was the cradle of immigration

for the Americas, and a popular posting for us.

There in the geological posterior of the old 

Hudsons Bay NW territories, among the tallest

peaks in Canada, in the bosom of the 

Ring of Fire, we have bases for our vehicles

and communication centers. 

Mine is in Mt. Logan, not far from 

the wonderful wetlands

at Old Crow Flats.

We set up complexes near the Boreal forests

across the globe, reminding us of the vast expanses

of forest on our home planet. We have hundreds 

of names in your various cultures.

Some of the First Nation on Vancouver Island

called us Sesquac--the wild men.

We are here by choice, without conscription,

each of us deployed for a century,

and have enjoyed our meager impact

on your progress. Your achievements during

the first half of my tour have been astonishing;

all of you busy as beavers assimilating

every scrap of gifted innovation. 

We understand all your languages, 

but prefer our own expansive communication,

covering all the octaves of your hearing spectrum

but sounding to you like growling, whistling,

and howling. 

Our message is joyful.

The Mayans, though well meaning,

were confused. Your existence as a species

is still in its infancy, your history still in prologue.

You could not possibly even imagine

the glittering future that awaits you.

Be sure to smile when you discover

what will be shared with you

the summer of 2020.

Glenn Buttkus

December 2012

Posted over on dVerse Poets OLN

Would you like to hear the author read this poem to you?