Amanda’s Trail
In 1864, Amanda De-Cuys, a blind Coos woman, was removed from her home
and forced to walk some 50 miles to be relocated at the Coast Reservation near
what is now Yachats, Oregon.
It was her way to embrace circles of seasons
in an abundance of bulbs, roots, berries;
to harvest mussels in the low and salty estuary—
until she became a refugee in her own homeland.
It was her way to lay the dead
in canoes hung from branches, always
facing west. Those boats would sway
in the breeze as souls rowed into the next world.
Which of us wouldn’t enter eternity like that?
It was her way to leave gifts
for that long journey: basket, knife, blanket—
until those gifts were stolen for souvenirs.
It was her way to trust the shaman,
until the diseases came and there were no more
living to tend to the dying.
Today, we lace our boots and ready packs
to step into forest’s ripe and sudden smells
on the flanks of Cape Perpetua.
The same cliffs, chasms, streams, rocks.
The same churning waves in the distance.
The path before us curves like the parenthesis of history.
We can’t see its end as we cross over a bridge,
traverse switchbacks, follow twisting trail
to pause at a knoll overlooking the expansive sea.
Cedars press green spirit-weave against the sky—
dappled with light, rooted in darkness.
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