Let go of the present and death
Go to the place nearest the stars
gather twigs, logs;
build a small fire
a huge angry fire.
gather nature's skin,
wet it, stretch it,
make a hard drum,
fill it with water
to muffle the sound.
Gather dry leaves, herbs
feed into the fire
Let the smoke rise
up to the dark sky,
to the roundness of the sun.
Moisten your lips
loosen your tongue,
let the chant echo
from desert, to valley, to peak--
wherever your home may be.
Remember the smoke
the chants, the drums
the stick grandfather held
as he spoke in the dark
of the power of his fathers?
Gather your memories into a basket, into a pot, into your cornhusk bag, and grandfather is alive for us to see once again.