Water Stone

The Waters of Temagami

There was drumming and there were prayers
in the dark lodge where the stone people, the
bone people, were given to the fire, where we
lay on the cold black earth crying out for the
ancient ones to come to aid the dreams and
the journey, to beg in our terrible sorrow
forgiveness for the people of earth, for the
animals and the children, for the tree people,
the birds and the water. And when the stones
were quiet and the breath was gone from the
drum we went with the sheen of sweat on our
skin and our tears into the waters, to wash
together in the dark waters, cold and older
than time, where the silence sang with stars
and the sparks rose up dancing from the
sacred fire into the dark sky, where our hearts
too, rose dancing with the fire and the stars.



About wrensong

I am a poet who collects stones. I am a wanderer of creek beds and forests, canyons and high desert who, coming home, sometimes finds words to tell the story. I am a companion with others in the search for Deep, Wild Soul. I shape containers in time and space for others to come together to write, to tell their stories, to hold each other in the telling. I am a grandmother and the companion of a cat named Alaya. I often travel out into open country with a man who calls himself Dunewalker who has hung his hammock in my heart.
This entry was posted in A River of Stones, aros, Lake Temagami, Nature, Poetry, Small Stones. Bookmark the permalink.

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