arrow wounds. Some arrows look ancient, some
look like carbon fiber.
The small ones break my heart. Some were
clearly hurt, others have a layer of frost covering
them, or very little fur on their bodies. One passes
right by me, so close I could touch it, but there is
not much to touch because of its malnourishment.
They pay me no mind. They don’t see into this
reality. They passed on, but this is a place between.
People are warned to stay away, the risk of slipping
through is high here. I wanted to see. I wanted to
keep their memory with me. They don’t exist here
anymore. Our world is dying.
I have many more places to visit. As do
these bison. They move past me, and I swear a
particularly small baby pleads for me to help. The
sun rises and with its arrival the fog fades. The
bison gradually dissipate along with the fog. I
remain until the fog is totally gone and I can’t see
them anymore. I start my trek back to continue my
visits to other locations like this one.