Modern Minotaurs
The labyrinth at Crete was a mansion,
its expansive hallways winding each
after the other – yet it had only one exit.
The Nachusa Grasslands of western Illinois
fill 3,500 acres – huge fields of native
foxglove and clover – fenced by barbed wire,
where forty-four modern-day Minotaurs –
pure-bred bison – graze happily, we are told.
Fourteen new calves tell us all is well.
Their job is not to terrorize or devour
enemies of the region’s king, but simply
to graze, spread manure, and procreate.
It is not a zoo, the volunteer says. They are
free to roam as they please. In a few years,
their excess numbers will be sold for meat.
What creatures of this earth do not learn,
sooner or later, that freedom is always
purchased – and at no small price?
We sidle our fences, peer down dark
hallways, leave trails of string to mark
where we’ve been. We lock our gates.
Set aside dreams of the great migrations,
O horned ones. Learn to love the dandelions,
the mice and voles making beds of your fur.
The swallows and kites that dip and dive
at the flies on your backs do not have
wings enough to lift you to the sun.
Author comment: I’ve been working lately to rid myself of the habit of viewing the world through a lens of binaries – a lens that is perpetuated through education, media, and daily conversations. We are black or white, male or female, married or single, employed or unemployed, 99% or 1%, liberal or conservative, tech-savvy or Luddite. It’s not honest and it’s not helpful to simplify our existence in this way, and clearly we’ve reached a point where we’ve gotten stuck, unable to have meaningful dialogue with those we perceive as “other.” How much more rich our perceptions and conversations might be if we allowed ourselves to consider multiple possibilities of identity, place, and belief, accepting fluidity and nuance as we and our cultures progress.
This poem explores the binary of freedom and captivity. It was impossible for me to read about the newly-restored grasslands at Nachusa without seeing it both as a wonderful effort in finding our way back to the untainted Midwestern wilderness and a desperate attempt – probably too late – to save the ecosystem.
What does it mean for an animal to be labeled “free-range”? What an interesting (and euphemistic) oxymoron. The range is a fenced-in area where animals are managed by human beings. While it’s lovely to imagine the animals might feel “free,” it’s impossible to know.
As with humans and most living things, “freedom” is a multifaceted and largely illusory concept. The Minotaur was a huge and powerful creature who killed and ate anything that became trapped in King Minos’ labyrinth. Yet the monster, too, was trapped there.
Kate Hutchinson teaches English to high schoolers and, during the summers, teaches poetry writing to college students. A chapbook of her poems, “The Gray Limbo of Perhaps,” was published in 2012. Currently, she is working on a collection of poems about what it means to be a Midwesterner and a resident of the outer suburbs — that hybrid existence of “wild” and “tamed” which boils down to a combination of spaces where grass is mowed or not. She blogs at Poetkatehutchinson.wordpress.com.
Photo credit: Saukvalley.com
