to the scent of you visiting me yet again,
Meet me there - our place - on the illuminated
plateaus
where creation and humanity meet.
Between every blade of Sweetgrass
there is the whisper
of those who inhabited this land before.
Earth remembering
the ones who left their offerings,
and loved Nature as their own
flesh and blood…
From underneath the suffocating burden
and salty tears
of
rape, molestation,
addictions, depression,
suicide, incarceration,
domestic abuse,
abandonment, neglect,
and even black magic;….
we have traveled
straightened our minds,
and uncovered
what our Spirits are made of….
All directions of
For every sickness
there is a plant who cures.
For every torn tapestry
there is a hand who weaves.
For every lost soul
there is a teacher waiting to reveal their
Ancestral memories.