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Grandmothers Granite Bowl
A little over a month ago,- or in our tongue, the time of the white winter moon- I was speaking with a wasichu, white man, on the sacred land of the springs. A place they call Bancroft House", one of the first white dwellings in the Valley of the San Dominguo (Saint of the Spring Water).
This wasichu was the keeper of the fire (historian).
A storyteller with no laughing eyes or light to show you the stories within…
He was saying, as we were walking, to where the "dump site" was located. A dark place where the wasichu burned sacred belongings of those whose tears made this spring- many brave warriors who had visions in the desert below the sun; found their grandfathers sitting here when they needed drink to carry on, and return home with their gift from Manitou.
He was a blank shadow of words…as he said, "See, they would burn all the Indians things they'd find, or break them, so they would stop coming around. You know, stealing food and animals and the kind."
I said, "They were not stealing what the mother provides freely. Two different belief systems."
Stubborn eyes aren't able to believe…like they say, "Only those who believe in miracles will see any angels".
"What do you do when you have 2 different beliefs, wasichu? You erase the others history! Ha-co yaha !!."
And the white man nearly stumbled as my words became smoke in his eyes, and for fleeting centuries, he saw a true belief, far more ancient than the history in which he stored;
and he replied, "I guess you're right", as my smoke cleared his eyes…
And in a locked room beside the old cabin…Something that was retrieved from the dump was broken apart and analyzed. These were the remains of a child-spirit inside a burial pot to rest in her grave never opened her eyes. "She's only dated to the turn of the century" His words wounded my gift as I fell to my knees…
And there, right beside me, with the world needing healing at medicine hands, sat our granite grandmothers' medicine bowl!! Never broken, for always mended, for it was a gift from the father forged before time began…And it is locked away in a wasichu's den!
I pray this is not how it ends…
Kala Rains
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