Nahuel Huapi

Morning tweets sounds of dawn.
Peepholes of the tent cast
a halo around my head.
The sleeping-bag expels me from its cocoon
and I wobble towards flapping canvasses.
Uñelfe twinkles obeisance to the austral
sunrise. How can I miss the glory
of Nahuel Huapi at this magic hour?
The air resounds with tales of long ago.
Secrets of The Earth People.
The Mapuche.
Phantoms retell their legends on the breeze.
I’m warned of the chiquehuecube.
It’s an avenger inhabiting the lake.
“What’s it like?” I ask invisible powers.
It’s "cuero con uñas", whisper rustling leaves.
Leather with claws? fish or animal? is it alive?
You’re not one of us. You won’t understand.
A longish hump traces a wake
on the playful surface of Nahuel Huapi.
Sparkling crests exhibit claws.

The night before, on the lakeshore,
bonfires painted orange lights
and shadows on wine-drinking revellers.
Guitars were strummed tunelessly.
The cold moon circled over coupling pairs.
Nahuel Huapi bore with the ribald laughter,
sheltering galaxies of stars in her dark belly.
Water is sacred to Mapuche.
They entone tayül to trees, water,
rocks and sky, the regwe of nature.
Choppy waters sparkle
and the trail of the cuero vanishes.
Nahuel Huapi is icy to my toes.
I’ll not bathe in her.
I’m not a beachcomber.
Multiform twigs and pebbles fill me with wonder.
I touch some reverently and continue on my way.

About This Poem

Last Few Words: I've not translated the indigenous words. * Uñelfe: Morning Star * Mapuche: Earth People. Mapu=earth, che=people * chiquehuecube: A leather with claws, looks like a drowned cow, but grabs swimmers and devours them. Sort of like the Loch Ness monster. * tayül: ritual songs. * regwe: sacred places in the woods, always outdoors. * The name of the lake derives from the toponym of its major island in Mapudungun (Mapuche language): "Island of Puma", from nahuel, "puma", and huapí, "island". There is, however, more to the word "Nahuel" - it can also signify "a man who by sorcery has been transformed to a puma".

Review Request Direction: What did you think of my title?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
Is the internal logic consistent?

Review Request Intensity: I appreciate moderate constructive criticism

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Region, Country: Río Negro, Argentine Patagonia , ARG

Favorite Poets: Sylvia Plath

Comments

Nahuel Huapi

Hello, Gracy,
Such a reverent poem - so still. The imagery while speaking and listening to the phantoms and the rustling leaves...your poem has taken me to a place where I hold too much respect to feel fear. Secrets of The Earth People. Thank you so much for this very quiet, breathtaking poem.
L

Even if...

I had not seen your signature on this, I would have recognized your work. I begin to see your reverence for the land and the people that inhabit it. So well crafted, that one can see the beautiful silence, [albeit the guitars]. Great stuff!
~ Geezer.
.

Hello Lavender, I'm pleased

Hello Lavender, I'm pleased that my poem has taken you to revered places, either in memory or present. I also revere Nature and feel so sad about the whole situation, including the discrimination of indigenous people, which continues to this day, along with black people and many other communities.
I feel I must write about them, although this poem was written at least 20 years ago because my father sent me to a rural school, where my buddies were mostly mestizo or indigenous.
I'm amazed that you find it breath taking. Thank you so much, Gracy

Thank you, Gee. What you say

Thank you, Gee. What you say is true, I've always loved Nature, since childhood, as I think you did/do as well.
Camping by the lake is lovely, except for those noisy groups who play loud music and get drunk or worse.
We have chains of immense lakes in Argentine Patagonia, no lack of clean water, it comes from the glaciers.
Well, perhaps most of my poetry is about nature, but I also write love poems and others! All the best and tx for commenting so kindly, Gracy

Hello Jerry, as I've always

Hello Jerry, as I've always said, I thank my parents for all this. They brought me up with Rachel Carson's Silent Spring and they taught me to work in the orchard and garden, also to collect fallen apples for cider and far more.
Thank you for your comments and the "special hug" for only some ladies...lol.
All the best to you and Lynda, Gracy

Thank you, Terry. I'm glad

Thank you, Terry. I'm glad you like it. Now I'm going to post a completely different poem, from bygone times, in my imagination. A little inspired by Christina Rossetti. All the best, Gracy