The Island- part two

(The Island- Part two
A Chapter by Coyote Poetry
A story.)


The Island- part 2

Lana sat to the left of me and Nicole to the right. Lana told me, I am a artist. I painted the artwork on the bridge, did you like the artwork? I told her. The artwork gave life and spirit to the bridge, the artwork is amazing and beautiful. Did you do the Native American statues? She smiled and she told me. I wish I did. That was done by Captain. The Captain is our island poet and medicine man. He was once California, now he belong to Idyllic and Lake Superior. He is our personal nagual and he can tell you a thousand stories. I believe he is at least 500 years old. I smiled at her and she touched my face, she whispered. I want to paint your face. You have a ancient face on a young body. I see a million stories in your eyes, I see confusion, pain and loss of direction. You are lucky, Idyllic, a place where people come to heal. Nicole whispered, less talk, more drinking and let’s listen to the song.

Darkness was coming and we drank four bottles of the wine. The music was wonderful, the jazz was sweet and heavy, the folk songs make you believe in love and laughter. I was blessed by two beautiful woman and I told them. I must return home to Ann Arbor. Nicole asked, when is your next shift? I told her. In three days, I am on a short vacation. I had a bad three days. I buried my second brother, 20 years old on Wednesday. The hang-man rope was more tempting than life. Nicole wrapped her arms around me, she whispered with tears falling her eyes. I knew you came to Idyllic for a reason. Lana saw death on your right shoulder and I went to you. My first tears fell for my brother and she held me like a child, Lana cried with me and she wrapped her around us.

We must have been a site for the people near. Lana and Nicole released me and I thanked them and I notice. No-one showed concern, like we were alone with the music. I told them, I will find a motel near and I will return tomorrow. Lana laughed at my words and she told me. Idyllic, difficult to find and almost impossible to leave. We have a spare cottage near the lake. I demand you stay with us. We will be, near to you if you need someone to talk to or if you are losing your mind. Everyone at Idyllic had known great pain and we come here to heal. Dear John, death is not sweet, death is the end. The story end when the kind earth cover our body.

Was almost midnight and we walked into the quiet city. Nicole held my hand and we followed Lana to the eastern part of the Island. The moon was half-filled. I told Nicole, a half-moon. The liar’s moon. Where we can twist words and there is no payment. She smiled and laughed, she asked him. Do the poet never quit writing? I love the word-men. Interlacing their words to song and story. The word-men and the word-women are needed. They write the true stories and tales of our world. if was no writers or poets. Old world would be empty and forgotten. Lana led them to a dark cottage. she went in first, turned on the lights. Nicole went in first and she dragged me in. This is your home, if you need a place to rest. Please come to Idyllic. Me and Lana, we live here, year around. We are Summers muses and snow bunnies in the Winter. Lana kissed my forehead and Nicole hugged him and she kissed my lips. she whispered. You will be okay.



The cottage was beautiful. A large bed facing the large window where you could see lake Superior. Lightly furniture and the smell of the wildflowers. He went to his truck and he gathered his few belongings. One of the items was a 32 pistol in a first aide kit, given to by his father. He loved this day spend with Lana and Nicole, but his heart was heavy. The sorrow of yesterday began to overtake him. He loaded six rounds into the pistol and he watched the moon fall into the west. I heard a soft knock on the cottage door and he opened the door. Nicole in her cotton night gown stood before him. She asked me, what are you doing? She pushed me aside and she went to the bed. She held the 32 pistol and she slowly released the six bullets. She turned to me, please Johnnie, no more death and she came to me. She held me like a child and she whispered. You are not alone, we will cry together, we will share the suffering together and I will keep you safe.

She took me to the bed of cotton sheets and light blankets. She took off my shirt and pants. She forced me down gently on to the soft bed and she released her cotton night gown. I watched her walk away, turned off the lights and she came to me. She held me tightly and she brought my face to her breasts and she caressed my hair and forehead.


She sang to me.

Darkness shall fall,
darkness shall fall,
some days,
so hard,
we cannot bare to breathe,
we must,
we must.
Sweeter days shall come.
Be brave,
be fearless,
you are not alone.

Dancing Coyote