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.