“The Spirit That Watches”
(A tale carved in wood, water, and wildness)
There is a place where the river speaks in a forgotten tongue,
and the trees remember names older than fire.
In that place, the bear stands — not as a hunter,
but as a guardian of stories.
Behind it, a totem rises,
not for worship — but for remembrance.
Faces carved from cedar,
fish shaped from ancestral hands,
and a box with a smiling mask —
as if the forest itself once laughed and has not forgotten how.
The salmon leap not only through water,
but through generations.
They return upstream,
as if chasing a promise whispered by the first light.
And the bear waits —
not in hunger,
but in sacred patience,
knowing that every life taken must be honored
with more than just thanks —
with ceremony.
This image is not just art.
It is a map —
drawn in fur, wood, and water.
A map of how to live with the land,
not above it.
Each carved eye sees beyond time.
Each swirl of the stream carries not just fish,
but spirit.
