kneeling before the void,

whirling in a vast interior world

peopled with manitou and elementals;

clustered with nebulae and shards of moonlight,

the shaman is guided by the voices of

the stars, the whispering of leaves,

the neverending dance of life and death.

the soul of the crow, the spirit of the shell;

the fragmented dreams of the ancients,

the mystery of flesh and of the spirit ensconced deep within.

her arms scarred with petroglyphs,

her empty womb carved with glistening spirals,

blood flowing in the labyrinth of her veins, her heart, a caged bird.

the protective sacred sheaf of sage bursts into flame in her hands

as seeds melt upon her tongue;

she is shrouded in fragrant sacred smoke.

she cries out as feathers brush her brow,

and a soft breath caresses her shivering body

in the profound darkness;

frightened but resolute, she watches

as her dreams evolve and flow,

birthed in the hidden cavern of memory.

a path of crushed bone, trees of splintered stone.

moist earth and decay, desert dust and ash.

discordant bells and the sound of water

flowing far beneath the ground;

a lone flute echoing in a canyon.

pursued by the shadow of coyote, lurking, laughing;

she gives up her tears of crystal and turquoise, and he fades.

the song of the moon begins softly as she weeps,

a wheel turning into forever in the deepest reaches of her questing mind.

alive in her search for truth, her beliefs reconfirmed;

her soul purified and hollow, illuminated and healed;

she emerges from her trance, her nocturnal dance,

unscathed, renewed.

she smiles and opens her eyes, allowing her heart to fly free;

a small bird soaring toward the light of the rising sun.