Contents:

The Cliff ....by [email protected]
The Lesson ...by [email protected]
The Circle ...by [email protected]
The Seventh Sign ...by [email protected]
Crying Spirits ....by [email protected]
Flag Song ...by [email protected]

How can one be so deliriously happy and yet stand at the edge of a chasm?
I feel the cliffs below me, the rocks gently washed by a loving shore...
And my balance teeters precariously...
All at once I see it, faintly coming from the mist
Your hand to steady me, to remind me..
Of things I will never forget...
Eons of time, completing a circle that began long ago...
All the places that were home, simply because you were there...
How easily we skip through time,. through that invisible doorway...
How comforting to know wherever I am, you  do exist...
The sun beats down in heated waves...
And I am surrounded with a feeling of well being and satisfaction...
This cliff holds no threat to me...
I chose it myself, to watch the world from this arena..
Now I am aware of the life teaming around me..
Gulls crying overhead... doves cooing in contentedness..
The ocean, brimming with so much life, so many creatures playing..
Even the earth I stand upon
Is lovingly carressed by a miniature world of the smallest beings...
This is home....this is where I belong...
Immersed in the knowledge that I am forever safe...
In my love for you...
The cliff becomes a place to take flight from..
To soar to heights unimagined by mere mortals..
Knowing full well that loving hands wait to catch me, if I should lose my
way..
Knowing that this second is the stuff, eternity is made of..
And in that awareness I am complete..to remember who I am..
To laugh with joy, forever in my possession..
And disappear into forever with you...

I walked into his lodge. The darkness wrapped itself around me like a mist. The smell was of death. I could hear his heavy, raspy breathing. It was like the sound of boulders beating their way down a stream during a heavy rain. The light from his small fire barely lit up his face. The lines of his pain were deep like the claw marks of a mad bear. I set my medicine bag beside him. I feared to open it for although the spirits were strong I wondered if they were strong enough to help me.

Slowly his eyes opened. The light and life in them were dim; yet he smiled weakly at me. I thought to myself, it may have been a grimace of pain. Then I knew the smile was genuine. I worked up the courage to begin, but was at a loss why I was so afraid. Why did I doubt the power of the spirits? With this doubt, would I be able to help him?

I slowly opened up the bag. I went to the small fire and placed the sage leaves in it. I looked to the east, blessed the sunrise and the new beginning it offered. I looked to the west, blessed the sunset and the ending of all things.

I took out my pipe, placing a leaf of tobacco in it. I placed some tobacco in the fire to let the spirits know that I was there in peace. I let them know I asked their blessing in what I was about to do and that I also asked their help.

I lit my pipe and placed it at his lips. He slowly inhaled the sweet smoke into him. I placed my hands over his chest in prayer. His body seemed to draw the warmth right out of my hands. The smoke came out black; I knew then that it would take all that I and the spirits had to free this man and bring him peace.

My spirit bundle was near me. While picking it up, I said the prayers that I had learned. They were part of my very being. I placed the bundle's contents on the fire one at a time. The smoke wrapped itself around and within me. My mind began to travel.

I was soon in the place I had been before: The place between life and death.

I have no words to describe this place to you: what I saw, what I felt, what I became. What I can say is before me lay the spirit of the man I prayed for.

Around him stood many other spirits: Those that seemed to be made of color, light pulled at him with gentle hands seeming to guide more than trying to make him go somewhere; the others were dark with no light and they too pulled at him but with clawed hands that seemed to tear at his flesh and they seemed to be trying to take him away with them.

When I looked into the faces of the spirits I saw in the man what he seemed to have been at different times of his life.

When my mind and spirit saw this, the spirits let go of him and faced me. I could hear in my mind and my soul, them speak: "YOU can not win this one. The spirits you ask for help have no authority here. Only ONE may help here, and you must find him to see if He will listen."

Again they gathered around the man and held and grabbed at him.

The mist began to clear from within me. I was back in the lodge. The air still smelled of smoke and death.I looked down at the man as he opened his mouth and asked me: "What must I do? Please help me find peace." A tear fell down his furrowed check.

I could see the answer within me, but it was unclear. The thought of those spirits around him seemed to be the answer. Then the answer came to me clear. There was nothing I could do.

There was only one who could help. He was before me lying upon the robes. This man before me was the only one strong enough to help.

Taking hold of the man's hands, I told him what I saw, that I could do nothing for him. Only he could do anything.

I let him know that I was here. I would be here only to guide Him. He alone must face each spirit in turn and accept both the good and the bad. They were his good points in life and the sadness, the hope to find peace. He must accept them all to find peace. He must make peace with himself.

As the truth seeped into his mind, I saw a battle being fought within him.

His eyes were turning light and dark as each became one with the man. Soon the battle seemed over. With that end the lines within his face seemed to melt.

Still, he spoke to me such kindness: "Thank you. Now I have accepted all of myself. I can die at peace," he said. "All I had to do was accept all I was. Then peace would find me. I have found peace."

The fire flickered and flared. In the fire light I saw him go; a smile lit his face as no fire could. All those hearing this story learn...to find that peace you must accept who you were and are, or the spirits of your regrets will drag you down.

In the middle of Miami, in the middle of the mess 
  In the middle of the madness, in the middle of progress
    In the middle of construction, in the middle of the day
	The diggers found a circle in the middle of the way

A circle of the ancients, a circle carved in stone
  A circle filled with secrets, a circle still unknown
    A circle where some worshipped, a circle oh! so old!
	A circle lost forever to the cold pursuit of gold

Upon the bones of ancients, upon the bones of time
  Upon the bones of pity, upon the bones of lime
    Upon the bones of wisdom, upon the bones of waste
	Rose another concrete tower meant to take the circle's place

And the river sighed in sorrow, and the wind withheld its breath
  And the eagle and the heron watched in horror at the death
    But the people barely noticed, passing by they took no part
	And the circle soon was buried in a city with no heart

Once there was a Native American boy who watched the hawks and eagles. He wanted so much to fly and be with them. He told everyone about his dream and one day while he was walking, some boys jumped him and put honey and feathers all over him. They laughed and said, "Now go fly with your friends in the air."

After that everyone made fun of him and put him down. Some eagles saw this and felt what happened to him. The boy went to bed one night and dreamed of an eagle coming down and touching him. He dreamed this seven nights in a row, and each time he told his parents. Finally his father told him to go up to the mountain and build a fire and cleanse himself with the smoke. Then to sit there for seven days and wait to see what happens. He told him if something does happen to give him a sign of some sort.

So he did what he was told to do for seven days. On that seventh day seven eagles came down and touched him. He turned into an eagle and flew off with them. He went to his parents camp and flew a circle seven times around them. On the seventh day he dropped seven feathers down to honor them for a final sign so they would know it was him.

To this day when you see eagles remember the boy who wanted to fly and be one. For that one you're seeing just might be him.

Written by Bluelove7

As I sit here staring into the grey gloomy woods....
I see the spirits of my ancestors walking amongst the trees...
Their heads are hung low...
Their shoulders are slumped....
A ragged blanket is all they have to warm them...
Their feet are wrapped with old rags....
Every now and then one will stop and glance over at me...
Our eyes speak to each other...
The old one tells me of his pain...
I comfort him with a smile...
He smiles back...
Then speaks...
I see in your eyes Little Sister 
that you and those like you will teach others 
how to walk upon this earth as I once did.....
Where there was no pain...
Where the sound of laughter sang through these trees...
I see your heart Little Sister...
It is good...
He turns and starts to walk away....
There's something different about him now...
He's holding his head high...
His walk is proud again..
His shoulders are strong...
He's wearing a warm thick buffalo hide that warms him....
His feet are covered with newly made moccasins...
Once again he walks this earth with pride...
He speaks once more...
I am a proud Warrior again Little Sister..
For I now can see again beyond the mountains
Beyond the trail of tears.....

Catching my breath
My right arm aches
Holding out the corner of my shawl
The pain is less then I'd like to give in return
A tear falls and a prayer rises
To honor those who have bled for me
My legs crave movement with the drumbeats
And I want to let them have their way
But I stand motionless along the outer edge
Facing in
Images flashing of our People
Bleeding and falling
Hearing the war whoops and battle cries
The pride in the veterans' eyes is mirrored
In my ancestors' gaze
They are standing before me
Showing me their deaths at the Strangers' guns
So I will honor them and be thankful
And every honor beat is a gunshot
I tremble in pain
And every gunshot is one warrior
Who died for me and mine
And with every death
A tear falls and a prayer rises
To honor those who have bled for me.

by [email protected]
Dances With Wind
Sarah A. Scherrer