First time alone in a forest,

demons stirred my thinking,

left me trembling, frightened,

wanting to run, distracting me

from hundreds of leaf and

stone altars, made

by wind, rain and cold.

Slowing down my steps,

rhythms of earth and pulse

breathed into leaves

exchanged with trees.

I felt my breath.

I noticed lichen covered

tree stumps that looked like

small castles, heard an ethereal

echo from a distant bird.

I felt welcome, with a pull from each

being awaiting my approach.

Now when I enter, leaves are

weaved in my hair

petals of wild rose surround

my heart, seed pods dangle

down my chest.

I’ve become kindred with the woods,

sitting on a branch, resting in a nest,

married to the wilderness.

Indigenous ones; those who

warm their hands in earth,

know the cycle of moon

and stories of constellations,

those who nourish each other

with plants, ecstatic dance

and sacred rituals, who guide their

children to know nature,

lead rites of passage

with communities of trust,

these are the ones to lead us.

Their ways uphold tools for navigating

a life well lived on this earth:

food, shelter, warmth, clothes, medicine

and honoring their people.

Instead of the illusionary arrows

of our bows, aiming farther

away from the origin of what

nurtures humanity.

Across the mountains and plains,

buffalo, prairie dog, snake, I must call them,

search for the keepers of medicine,

ask to use what they unearthed from blessed soil.

Their labor with mud crusted hands, cannot be measured.

We have reaped the value of what they revealed,

in yellow dock, dandelion and yarrow:

the great medicines that heal.

Risking death, as they spoke to rain and thunder,

sang praises to sun, flared in rash, burned

and coughed up blood, in order to understand.

They gathered knowledge,

from each landscape and leaf,

knowing when to use a flower, when to use a root,

which ones were asking to be chosen,

chopped, boiled, swallowed in a brew.

Years of trials, the great task of listening,

through hunger, drought and birthing children,

they grew trust in the roots of autumn,

spring blossoms, birds that move seeds through air.