The Anzick Child

painting, poetry

The Anzick Child

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Al Nyhart

 

 

 

 

 

Hunting marmots in August
near the Shields River
we found parts of you

buried in a sandstone outcrop
with tools washed in red ochre
Twelve thousand years

before you could tell us
of your ancestors leaving Siberia
walking the land bridge

into the Americas
Child of hunter-gatherers
you were too young

to forage the wild plants
growing near your camp
or fear the mighty mammoth

kept near by the mountains
We borrowed you awhile
to examine your bones

then put you back into the earth
where the spirits of your descendants
celebrate your return

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