NEARBY, PETROGLYPHS

Certain rocks draw the eye
and speak a single word
we never learned—too far
removed from survival,
too addicted to science
searching to soothe us,
to accept as truth—
we have convenient homes
furnished in our minds.

Not far, a young boy sweats
behind deer skins hung
from a granite cave
where two boulders rest,
ceiling black with soot—
left to his naked self
in these rocks,
beneath this sky,
that speak.

I remember the first time
it caught in my throat—
a gasp, up close, looming
above me—white-faced
cows and calves winding by.
I am yet not old enough
to stay and stare too long,
to learn another language.

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