I took shelter up the river I had only a small fire and a place to sleep I dressed my wounds with leaves I gathered from the bush Days then weeks went by Consumed by anger and hunger and sleeplessness I could think only of revenge
The sun rose early one morning and burned the mist off the river It was as if a path had been cleared for what happened next A blinding reflection came off the water and from it a man paddled gently toward me As he reached the shore I realized the reflection was caused by the sun hitting his hand-carved white stone canoe
