Gracy
Gracy
Apr 15, 2020

The Goatherd

An old Mapuche, head bent
against biting breezes,
drives his last goats up the hill,
not bothering to shut
the slatted door of his adobe hut.
There’s nothing left
for prowlers to scent.

Rumble of stones breaks his solitude:
an elegy of un-love echoes through canyons.
When evening glooms icy paths on slopes,
he’ll be a shadow of shades
in the glimmer of wasted moons -
maybe some salted meat
will warm his aching guts.

The rugged Mapuche
is tearless on lonely dawns.
His face, a mistrustful grimace,
lips sealed by images
of endless betrayal.
Vain hope and rituals
prevail in his muted soul.
Pilgrim of hoarfrost gendered in glaciers,
he believes in spirits of trees and snow.
There’s no love in his memory.

Mother Moon, Father Sun,
Lanin, his dormant volcanic god
and Patagonian steppes
feast his mind and timeless eye.

Mapuche: Earth people. Mapu=Earth, che=people.
"shadow of shades" is a quote from Shakespeare. "shades" are the dead in Greek myth.

About This Poem

Review Request Direction: How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
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

More from this author

Comments

Geezer

a fascinating read; you have set the scene and brought the goatherd to life. Wonderful write depicting the lonely life of a solitary man who spends his time looking after the only thing that matters to him anymore. One wonders who is there to love him and what he dreams of in the night. Very good. Nothing to find fault with here. ~ Geezer.
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Gracy

Thank you, Gee. The same happens to indigenous people all over the world. It's getting better, but with corona lots of babes and elderly are dying in far larger numbers than the rest of the population.
I thank my Dad for sending me first to a tiny rural school near our farm in Patagonia, where I learned Spanish along with mestizo kids. They were my little friends and I knew early in life that they had great deprivations. My own mother would not allow them into our home, I suppose she was afraid of lice, but as far as I can remember, nobody had any. It's more of a modern problem.
Many lonely old goatherds or other workers are around still, either living on the steppes or in the mountains. Thanks so much for your encouraging comments.

C

I got the feeling of emptiness as I read your poem. Your descriptions are spot on

S

He'll be a shadow of shades..... I think I know what you are trying for here. Try he'll be a shadow among the shade and see if you like it better. Poem about simple things often reveal that there are no simple people

Gracy

Hi, "shadow of shades" is a quote from Shakespeare. Should I say so at the end of the poem? "shades" meaning the dead in Greek myth.