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The Hounds of Big Sur Pursue a NASCAR Dad
Hounds pursue us.
I know them.
I know their teeth,
Their fangs smooth as ice,
Sharp as starlight.
I know their voices,
Mute now,
Silent because they are close.
Only the gurgle of their breathing,
The grunting of their effort,
The clicking of their claws on stone
Break the forest quiet.
I have your baby
Beneath my arm,
Tucked in,
Swaddled,
Safe
For the moment.
A bridge above the frothing sea
Is at my feet,
A narrow bridge,
Without railings.
Cerulean swells
Beyond the surf-line
Stop me.
That deep, inhuman blue
Opens me.
What if your baby
Is Adolf
Or Pol Pot?
Or Osama?
What if?
Should I not give him to the hounds?
What if
Your baby is Jesus,
Or Buddha?
Or Mohammed?
Should I not give him to the
Sea?
Your eyes widen with
Fear that is hope that is fear.
I see that your love is great,
But your love is not the sea.
What if Osama?
What if Mohammed?
But he is both.
The bridge sways beneath me.
The hounds are closer.
Robert Walton has taught at San Lorenzo Middle School for
thirty-five years. He and his wife Phyllis have been married for
thirty-two years. They have two sons, Jeremy, 26 and Jon, 21, and
make their home in King City, California. Robert is a life-long
rock-climber and mountaineer. He’s made numerous ascents in the Sierra
Nevada and Yosemite. His writing about climbing has been published in
the Sierra Club's Ascent, in "High" Magazine, and in "The Climbing
Art". Three of his books for children have been published.
Robert Walton
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