This is Poetry Moment on WPSU – a weekly program featuring the work of contemporary Pennsylvania poets. Your host is poet and author Marjorie Maddox, a 2023 Monson Arts Fellow, author of more than 20 books, and Professor Emerita of English and Creative Writing at the Lock Haven campus of Commonwealth University.
Welcome to Poetry Moment. I’m Marjorie Maddox
November 17th is National Take-A-Hike Day. Today’s poem, “Bushwhack” by Alison Hicks, reflects on one hard-won experience with hiking. In 1994, she, her husband, and their dog got lost in the Heart’s Content area of the Allegheny National Forest. For four days and three nights, they bushwhacked through the woods. Finally, State Police rescued them by helicopter. The author explains, “The greatest irony was that we must have been within a mile of our campsite—we just couldn’t find it.”
Alison Hicks’ latest collection of poems is Homing. She was awarded the 2021 Birdy Prize from Meadowlark Press for Knowing Is a Branching Trail. Previous collections are You Who Took the Boat Out and Kiss. Her work has appeared in Gargoyle, Permafrost, Poet Lore, and Smartish Pace. She first came to southeastern Pennsylvania as a student at Bryn Mawr College, returning to the area in 1994. She is founder of Greater Philadelphia Wordshop Studio, which offers community-based writing workshops.
You’re lost in the woods.
In fairy tales, you’re Hansel or Gretel; birds have eaten your breadcrumb trail toward home. An old woman, who turns out to be a witch, offers you help.
In real life, well… things aren’t looking great either: raw feet, scraped knees, thirst. Fortunately for today’s poet, her tale ended happily. But those four days of wandering lost? Not a story to re-live.
Here’s “Bushwhack” by Alison Hicks
Bushwhack
No trail. A compass reading.
We can’t walk a straight line. Blowdowns
force us into detours, we climb
over massive trunks, the stream meanders.
Not clear how the topo aligns
with rises and valleys. We could be
anywhere, do not have the vision
of the raptor banking above.
The land shifts and groans over time,
turning in sleep. It doesn’t tell
its dreams, a language we can’t decipher,
intimate as we are, crawling through underbrush,
scaling boulders in the dry creek bed.
We might remember when we arrive,
wherever that is: raw feet, scraped knees, thirst.
What traces have we left?
Should we blaze the trail, melt into trees?
Feel them, even now, watching us.
______
“Bushwhack” appeared in Willawaw Journal, Issue 19, Fall 2024
That was “Bushwhack” by Alison Hicks. Thanks for listening.
Listen for Poetry Moment with Marjorie Maddox on Mondays during Morning Edition and All Things Considered on WPSU. You can view more episodes at wpsu.org/poetrymoment.
Our theme music is by Eric Ian Farmer.
