The Lilac Bear

Let the great bear of my history 
come seeking me by intuition
once I have put enough into the world
that my trace is pure, strong, and available.

Let the great bear of my history
come to me some August night
as I sit on my porch and imagine 
the scent of next spring’s lilacs.

Let the great bear of my history
stand before me, stinking of my past
mingled with the past of the world
beyond this one until all smells of the future. 

Let the great bear of my history
raise me in its arms and crush me
into the void, and let my body
be buried and forgotten soon after.

Let the great bear of my history
grant me the gift of the scent of lilacs
as a final memory, sparking the desire
to return by spring. 

Let me come back as a bear
foraging for history since that moment,
running up and down hills
in rejection of myths, flavoring the air.

Let me be the bear for another,
a wonder-filled being on a porch,
thinking of some good thing yet to come;
let me become the Bear, the Lilac Bear.