A Beast That Big Could Wreck Us

The Searchers
Tracy K. Smith
from Duende

after the film by John Ford

He wants to kill her for surviving,
For the language she spits,
The way she runs, clutching
Her skirt as if life pools there.

Instead he grabs her, puts her
On his saddle, rides back
Into town where faces
She barely remembers

Smile into her fear
With questions and the wish,
The impossible wish, to forget.
What does living do to any of us?

And why do we grip it, hang on
As if it's the rib of a horse
Past commanding? A beast
That big could wreck us easily,

Could rise up on two legs,
Or kick its back end up
And send us soaring.
We might land, any moment,

Like cheap toys. There's always
A chimney burning in the mind,
A porch where the rocker still rocks,
Though empty. Why

Do we insist our lives are ours?
Look at the frontier. It didn't resist.
Gave anyone the chance
To plant shrubs, dig wells.

Watched, not really concerned
With whether it belonged
To him or to him. Either way
The land went on living,

Dying. What else could it choose?