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Impressions of a Past...


The camp fires still burn
as ghost dancers step soundlessly
in swirling, spiraling smoke
weaving an old tale across the night sky.

Outside the flickering shadows
of the dwindling night fires
a she-wolf stands alert,
twin points of incandescence 
observing the ghost dance unfold
past the meeting point of days.

Sleeping under leather blankets,
the tribe receives the vision
to strike camp and relocate
for the place has become stagnant,
threatened by disease,
discovered by the enemy, 
reeking of sudden death.

The shaman, in his dream, 
reveals the message of the dancers,
through the motherly instinct of the wolf:
“Go! Break camp, move on 
where the she-wolf prowls under pale moon,
where tall trees protect from inclement weather
and hide from dangerous prying eyes;
where water and visions are clear.”

In obedience to the voice of Spirit
as in times uncounted,
the morning sun welcomes the tribe
breaking camp, preparing to trek:
no one will turn to look back
upon the weather beaten grass huts
nor the cooking circles
where the smoke still rises
in silent farewell.

(c)Sharran (Windwalker)

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