( WebShots - Kings River Overlook ) As we gathered on the warm cliff that is Great Grandfather’s lap, our breath whirled its greenness upon the midnight sky, Great Grandmother beckoning us across the threshold of her ballet. The moonlight danced upon the curve of the sacred water as lines traced across the sky like limbs, thin branches to prop up the stars …and my kind’s ungodly thoughts. My Love was wide eyed with awe, with sorrow. Her gaze, like a sentry without fire, led me to stagger over stones. (Her breath told me that it was going to be a long night.) I felt Love’s grief pierce my heart as we cuddled up. It wasn’t fear or regret; it was anguish lifting us to imitate revelation, to act out nature’s drama with hanging eyes. The mountain came alive with voices; Great Grandfather bellowed his return as Great Grandmother slapped the air. Unaccompanied, I ascended the dark mountain in search of the hallowed ground where corpses slept, th...
(The Weaver's Song)