Totem Poles and Telling Tales

I let ten years flow through me while I danced blindly around the totem pole. The ancient traditions that made me twirl, were made up of the same pasts as my reoccurring choreography. Until I looked up, and saw the totem pole for the first time, as my own.

Ornate carvings intertwined with graffiti, scratches and chunks missing, sometimes from clawing my way or holding on by the tips of my flawed fingernails. Turning my face up to the sky, I noticed the sun cast a shadow from the thick wood and illuminated the sun dial of my time. Surrounding me in orbit, dwarfing my fraction of existence, my kernel of time on this planet. Watching the shadow as though a time lapse photography expressed some urgency with my realization. Here and now.