Look for Polaris — Arcturus — Vega
When you wish upon a star….
I dream of dying in the Arctic night.
There are people who have themselves frozen
When they die–
Like the soil in Labrador.
Encased in liquid nitrogen,
To be defrosted when their cure arrives.
Lakes in Labrador run North and South,
gouged out by fingers of receding glaciers.
Filled with the melt of ice and snow.
I told my children: when I get old–near dying,
Take me to Baffin Island, put me on a sledge,
Haul me out on the ice and yell to the bears
An old Inuit woman, her teeth worn down
Softening seal skin.
Let the stars speak to me while I wait.
Leslie Lippincott Hidley has been writing prose and poetry for her own amusement and that of her family and friends and others for most of her 73 years. And one of her ten grandchildren is named Kalliope. She has lived in Walla Walla, Washington; Frankfurt and Bremerhaven, Germany; Upper New York State; Enid, Oklahoma; Montgomery and Prattville, Alabama; Lubbock, Texas; Dover, Delaware; West Palm Beach, Florida; Goose Bay, Labrador; Washington, D.C.; Fairfield, California; Omaha, Nebraska; and now resides in Ojai (Nest-of-the-Moon), California, where she continues to write.