image borrowed from bing
Maple Leaf Messiah
“Your heartbeat sounds like Sasquatch feet,
thundering, shaking the concrete.”
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
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,
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.
Posted over on dVerse Poets OLN
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