Spring Poem for Sasquatch, by Aaron Scott:
At last, the elusive Sasquatch is found!?
The tall, hairy being of the Natives’ lore left the wood?
The abominable mudman, subdued to the slander
of the media, just… walked out?
You can’t miss him, his ginger locks gingerly sit
upon his disheveled head and body.
His eyes, deep-set and topaz aglow
with hands bony and feet wide, yearning for simple contact.
Years spent simply waiting and watching the humans
for some time now; he figured he’d fit in
at this point. They all looked like
Fear struck twelve as he stood before a dozen of them.
His daunting size and daft incisors
proved fruitless in earning favor.
Though, he did not attack, so neither did they.
He lived among them, while
keeping to himself and letting his
eye wander. I wonder how he managed
for so long. Being a being so different, hence so… wrong…
Onset acute skepticism
forced him to accept a schism
that was rather septic.
“You’re too human, you feel too much!”
He did… He cried in pain,
and blamed himself, he lashed
in vain: his bane, his self.
He thought he knew he was no good.
Ought he return? Back to the wood?
Or should he stay and rough it?
His skin was not tough, it
only broke under pressure,
the furry façade, being no usher.
To this day he doesn’t know.
A beast, battered by the blows
Of wind, of word, of white, of woman
Of wit, of woe, of want… wanting to be free… take heed… you’ll see.
Source: Sasquatch Says