From Savage Lands of Fall by Jonas Sandison

From Savage Lands of Fall

a definition for the far border

by Jonas Sandison

I The Fall

II Canyonlands

III The Winter

IV The Kaira

V The Far Border

”It as the asterful a d i o u i a le isdo of eter ity laughi g at the futility of life and the effort of life. It was the Wild, the savage, frozen-hearted Northland

Wild. - - Life is an offence to it, for life is movement; and the Wild aims always to

destroy movement. - - man who is the most restless of life, ever in revolt against the

di tu that all o e e t ust i the e d o e to the essatio of o e e t.”

- Jack London, "White Fang"

My Savage Lands, as I call it, from Savage Lands of Fall, is a book of hunting and fly

fishing poetry I have begun writing and sketching into an entirety. It is a definition

for the far border, what it is to be at the mercy of the hunter's lands, the wilderness.

I explore and talk about themes like yearning, death, the fall, hunter's death,

yearning and longing, and especially redemption and Jesus as a cross bearer, and

hunting as a way of life, that is an entire life, of feeling debt and belonging, that has

an arc, a life cycle, and overlapping multiple levels of understanding and meditation

about death, hostility, adrenaline, deeprespect, action and serenity, a trek through.

I want to dedicate this sketch of a book of poetry to every hunter who went far,

searched and found, witnessed, and returned without taking a moose. I want to ask

all of you, what did you find from the vile lands of fall?

This is a book about a wild balance. I hope you like it.

In Ritaharju, on the 6th of January 2015

Jarno Ahola

as pseudonym Jonas Sandison

I The Fall

Silence.

Bad whispers.

Blackness.

Dark vile.

A pump-action.

A clicking sound of the safety.

A hunter feels the kaira, his debt.

Somewhere in the fall.

Quiet.

To yearn.

Feel the dying land and its fears.

Ravens in the distance, marking winds and scents.

Of living off a passing time of death's first whispers.

Fall, lands of dying, lands of vile minds.

Lands of gone.

To vander off.

Somewhere a bear.

A hunter killer smells fear.

The wild's nature over the dying lands.

Of fall.

Of life.

Of a last gasp for life.

Life taking a life.

Crawling deadwood trees begging the hollow sky for redemption.

Life taking a life.

Somewhere in the darkest night a deer finds its next hideout.

Eaten alive.

At life's end.

The dark mists hiding the wild.

Bloodied pools of dark vile.

Whispers of scavenge to nights and foxes.

The stream drowning itself to the night's black.

Suffering spruce cover the elk's last stream with their shadows.

An instinctive death, a savage balance taking life without conscience.

Nights flying to a scent.

A hunter somewhere, sensing the night.

A tent.

Fires of deadwood licking the darkness' scent.

The far border at night.

Fears are moving.

Outside scent, outside the fires.

A kaira of dead deer.

On dying lands.

Lands of grass and black pools of hollow water on a swamp of lasts.

On a canvas of death.

The deer of the fall.

Mocked by the dead land.

The hostile winds.

Feasted by the wolves.

A whisper of wind.

Howl.

Gone into the shadows.

A vile balance hiding in scents.

Bad lands.

A bowhunter's shot.

A deer falls, its strenght still in its last.

Weakened, its nature still in its blood, in its antlers, it falls.

A wing dives from the depths of silver.

To owe one's life to the dying lands.

Hostile vile.

Debt.

To live off a violent land.

To breathe might and dominance.

Feel redemption in savage.

Yearn for death, your own.

Breathe death, your land, your own, your mind.

A cast of shadows over a pool of black depths.

Ravens.

A paw.

A fear at the end of sight, over the rocks.

A pump-action.

A game of waiting.

Silence.

A fear gone.

A Karluk of hollow skies.

Marks of the bear.

On shores.

On vile lands of mists.

A griz.

A pump-action.

A cast of fly over vast lands of greyed skies.

On begging.

Spruce, suffering on rocky shores.

The spruce.

The ominous shadows over cold creeks.

Silent winds lying to the land.

A passing time of dying.

Endless.

On tundra.

A majestic in its might.

A scope.

A hunter breathing the majestic might from afar above the vast valley.

A fight.

A bleeding king.

The dominance, witnessed by the hunter.

Power felt.

A hunter stalks the majestic with a bow to silence death within.

The vast, conquered by fall.

To vander off.

To dissapear.

To a far.

Somewhere a bear.

A hunter killer smells fear.

The wild's nature over the lands.

Of fall.

Of life.

Of a begging prayer.

Life taking a life.

Crawling deadwood trees begging the hollow sky for redemption.

A silver cast over a silent stream.

A noble starts a fight from its deep.

The dark stream hid its back from the claws of wings.

Of hiding.

Fall.

The dying lands of aggression.

A majestic tears blood of a rival.

A rule of blood.

A generation of black, vile aggression, dominance, conquers again.

A harem's ruler.

Fall lands.

Vile, mountains guarding territories of howls.

Streams, hiding in black backs of trout, hiding from the wings.

On dying.

A stream of blackest vile stealing its way through fall swamplands.

Ducks.

Over migration.

Escaping the dying lands over the cold winds.

The last harvested fields.

Winter whispers after the last ducks.

Darkness of hollow conquers the hunters hunting on fields.

The blackest stream squirms through the vast swamps.

The dark fall and winds.

The last gasp of life before the first snow.

A vile might of blood.

To live.

To die a wild death.

Lands of wild death, lands of death and dying.

The fall.

The far.

The last.

A fear takes a scent before snow.

A breeze over the hollows.

II Canyonlands

Vast canyonlands.

A breath of desolate.

Breathing death.

A whisper of blood and bones in the air.

A coyote finds something to steal from canyonlands of bad sands.

On canyons.

Shadows leaning on burning vile hell of sands.

A kapinen coyote mocking a scenery of death.

Dead air.

Somewhere a breeze.

Breathing death.

A deserted hunter on plain sands.

A coyote's laughter.

In the heat, a bush runs across the hell.

Canyons of vast.

Dead air mocking life.

Somewhere blackess giving ease.

Life's effort mocked by the air.

A begging prayer.

Wild death.

Heat.

Begging, luring mirages over the vast sands.

Winds disappearing deer and coyotes.

A desolate wind over canyonlands.

A hollow.

The burning sand.

Burning whispers of vile sands of death.

A vast desert of quiet vile.

Bushes on grey sky.

A coyote's cry.

Of mockery.

Laughter.

Runs across the shadowed plains of sands and branches.

A thief of the dead canyons.

Steals escape from rocks.

A coyote laughing at the plains.

Mocking dead.

Rock.

Shadows giving ease.

A burning sand sea.

Mule deer hiding.

Grass plains, vast giving hide from the viles of the sands.

Hiding in vast fields, hiding in sight, hiding in distance.

A scope.

A hunter gazes through a valley.

A deer gone, a wind took it.

III The Winter

The wild.

White death over hollow valleys.

Howls trek through a storm of snow.

A winter howl, death's whisper, snowstorm, whispering to the pack.

The first snow.

Snowfall.

Howls breathing winter.

A rifle scope.

A gaze through a valley.

A fear climbing its way on the rocky steeps.

A shot that breathes death across the mountains.

The fear falls, torn by the gravel and first snows.

A hunter's lands.

Lands of bad.

Breathing death from 800 metres.

Breathing the nature of the vile fear, the bear, its cruel gaze.

Dark skies of ravens.

Vast valleys of snow.

Tracks of howls lurking across.

A savage dance of paws on windy winterlands.

Ghosts of winter.

Lands of white over quiet.

Waiting games of winter.

Waiting games of howls.

The last migrating ducks to the South.

Somewhere far a raven finds the first of the rule of the howls.

Howls feasting on intestines.

Painful winds stealing shadows, making howls wary.

A fear wants a carcass.

The deer, still breathing, takes a last gasp of his hiding.

Raven call sign from the distance.

An howling dead whisper stealing winds and lives.

Howls had been playing their waiting game with a muscox.

Days of winter.

Days past.

For days they stalked.

A capercaillie dives under snow to hide from the arctic cold.

At night.

Hiding in silence.

The arctic breathing death into the lungs of the viles.

IV The Kaira

The kaira.

A valley of dead told winds.

Of scouting.

The dying fall over spawning salmon.

Lands of bad, lands of vile.

Lands of dying.

Dead told.

The battles for scars.

Aggression.

Winds disappearing vile blood.

Winds.

Somewhere a bull takes a breath of dominance.

Blood passed.

Blood passing.

An echo through the woods of might, morning mists stealing scents.

A roaring might at the height wakes the woods.

Might.

Battles will take place.

Somewhere far a rutting deer.

A scout.

Endless plains of dying grass over the last blues.

A deer finds aggression, finds its vibe of might.

A rutting battle for blood.

Another fall's victor walks through its harem.

A hunter watches with keen, with stalk, with bow.

Respect.

Fall lands.

A whisper from a wind not to talk to a hunter.

Somewhere a hunter.

A click from the safety.

The dying lands of stalk.

A bow hunter stalks a deer.

Of vile.

Battles.

Survival.

The dark ones of the wild.

Vile spreading across the kaira like black water.

From hiding plains of deer.

To the fears of the wild fighting the wounded majestic.

Vile.

Black.

Darknesses spreading over ponds and lakes at night.

On kaira.

The far border.

A dying fall.

A titan falls to the sound of ravens.

A silencer.

After a stalk for two days.

V The Far Border

From far.

A fear running over a vast.

A hollow lure.

Scents.

To be at the mercy.

To live off vile.

Live life from yearning death.

To owe one's life to the dying lands.

Hostile vile.

Debt.

To live off a violent land.

To breathe might and dominance.

Feel redemption in savage.

Yearn for death, your own.

Breathe death, your land, your own, your mind.

The last border.

Vast, yellow kaira.

Skies of fear cloud the dying land.

Ravens of the night fly to death.

Death.

A hunter's life.

Fears.

A feeling of dying for the last time.

A vibe of fall.

On lands hostile to your existence.

A savage kaira belongs to the surviving.

On death.

Winds talking silenced paths.

On lands suffering from its own nature.

Stalking death, stalking fear.

Scents following a hunter's mind.

Stalk death.

Breathe death.

A shot.

A clicking sound of the bolt action.

Another.

Vile minds lurking behind trails.

On life's resent.

A deer disappears under a black sky.

A shadow's vile game revealing lurking howls in their scents.

A scent's gone.

Deers eaten alive.

Shadows whispering blood and gone.

An instinct telling hide.

A deer carcass.

Nights feasting in silence.

Off kaira's begging prayer.

Mountainsides of redemption.