I am from…
I am from Cape Cod ~ Otis Air Force Base and telephone lines
fish farmer granddaughter,
Ma, Pa, Bessie
I am from my backyard
tall pines, spring fed streams
a forest of woods and imagination
I am from stories and songs ~
Gluskabeh, Black Beauty,
The Little Engine That Could, and Puff the Magic Dragon
I am from Celtic lands
I am from ocean shores
I am from mountains and rivers, moss covered granite, and streams
I am from the Dawnland, from the place of descending rocks
I am from the days of drugs, sex, and rock and roll,
I am from the nights of darkness, Stardust, and meteorite showers
I am from sled dogs running
glaciers melting
whitewater flowing
mountain laurel blooming
love waiting
I am from the NiteDawn
I am from Rainbow moments
I am from the womb
-Victoria Akins
What Were You Thinking, Woman?
memories – emotions in the air
discordant buzzing like a fly
harshness, caws of the black bird
What Were You Thinking, Woman?
spring fragrances, flowers, butterfly
no, not for the autumn wanderer
recollections fill the wanderer
leaves, grass, crisp brown cool air
luna moth stayed and died, no monarch butterfly
fanciful flit, summer’s done, fly
self returns to winter’s woman
songbirds leave, hummers are gone, not the black bird
sentinel perch for the black bird
caws warnings of the roadside wanderer
caws that knock knock on the wall of woman
but ignored, a decrescendo silents the air
while on winter’s sun-warmed window buzzes a fly
no silent fragrances, flowers, or butterfly
caterpillar coffin coiffures a butterfly
compost scraps feed the black bird
maggots dine from death to fly
hardened soles support the wanderer
night chills nip at starlit air
in night time darkness is the woman
through the seasons is the woman
flycatcher swallows butterfly
feathered dreams float on air
swallows eggs lunches black bird
another passing for the wanderer
time to leave, walk run fly
teaching the wingless to fly
the grasping of a handless woman
with self returning to the wanderer
fragrances, flowers, butterfly
sleeping on the wing of black bird
drifting through lofts of air
lofts of air uplifting those that fly
the caws of blackbird, the cries of woman
dust from a butterfly wing, the soul of the wander
The Author
Victoria Akins is a Penobscot mother, grandmother and wife. She is also a former Whitewater Guide and Dog Musher on Wabanaki rivers and homelands. Victoria is in her 38th year as a teacher in the Penobscot community school. Her passions are being outdoors and teaching middle-school writing to the children in her community.
In 2007, she worked with Roger Paul, Gkisedtanamoogk, Paul Frost and Melanie Rourke to form the Wabanaki Writers Project, which combined writing in outdoor settings of Wabanaki homelands with Experiential Ed along with cultural activities and teachings to build a community of writers with Wabanaki youth. WWP published three volumes of work as Hear our Words, See our Thoughts.
