DANCING THE HUNT
morning dawn before sunrise
before light-at-the-edge of
Spirits still rising…ghosts drifting
light the fire…
are trying to hide in the glint
about the fire and
sounds of birds
call me to prayer
sing the loon songs, the sounds are
they really there
the wings-of-the morning…
The-breath-of-life beckons me awake…
splash-of-wings on water like a
twice three times…
movements beyond my sight my eyes
are still closed
is light within and spirits talk and
smudge with the dust of Mother Earth
as I touch the Earth…
to cleanse my soul, a bit of dried
meat to calm my body…
stretch to Father Sky giving thanks.
filled to over-flowing.
circle is complete.
heart beats evenly as river water
stick of horse, war club, regalia
made ready as has
done for over 30,000 years.
are still they will wake and stir to
the drums long
I have made for the trail… My eyes
are still closed
not need to see the Elders-of-the
Stars paint me with
morning stars and sun..
wearing my Eagle-talon medicine
Bear-claw medicine hair-tie…The
supernatural is holding
place in the circle of the hunt…
for the trail…I see, hear, smell,
taste and feel signs.
get closer and warmer,
mocs know this dance for life.
whole body tingles even the bells on
snap…honor beats…my feet never leave
search the horizon the hair stands
up on my skin
chased this deer and caught him…
touch his quivering flanks he is too
tired to run anymore
sweat and trembling of its body is
joined with mine…
whirl thru the under brush as my
brother makes a final
for the high trail..
notch my arrow and raise it to the
heavens aligning once more
the earth ,sky and spirits male and
not hesitate at the moment of truth
brother I have taken your life for
good reason tobacco is offered
bend low and touch the earth, I am
filled with ancestors…
to this morning light once more as I
dance the deer dance
music as each step tracks, rustle,
bustle, ruffle, resonate.
wings brush the air, my spirit rises
This hunt and dance
a hundred-thousand years old
is no dress rehearsal brother deer
and I do this only once
still on the wings-of-the-morning, I
carry my brother
homeward…The heart beat of mother
drumming as I follow the river
follow the sound of drumming along
the river all the way
where everything is always waiting.
related to all things as I re-enter
moving together…the hunt has been
will eat…many will do the food dance
pow honor beats fill the air…
morning dawn, soldiers, soldiers are
are not washed clean by the river of
quickly paint and braid-up.
mocs know this dance of life