The pungent smell of sage whirled around me as I knelt before council elders. I said a silent prayer for protection and blessings, that my feet be measured with speed of my wolf guardian. That my elders be with me, that my great-grandfather, who I truly knew still walked with me, guide me.
The fire.
Eyes.
The beat of the drum...the beat of my heart.
Woven patterns of my spirit wolf covered my shoulders as clasped my hands, preparing for the markings, and sliding it to the ground.
Dip.
Tap, tap.
It stung a little, but I was proud to wear the markings, to add the warrior etchings on my shoulder and arm.
The first one I received was just after I'd begun phasing, along with the intricate tattoo the pack all now wore.
Great Spirit be with me.
Dip.
Tap, tap, tap.
The fire burned brighter behind me, as I rose to my feet circling the drum. All the while the drums measured my steps.
Facing towards the east - always the east - I took the feather and sage in my fingers, rolling it in the flame, allowing the wind to waft smoke away, thanking the spirits for new life. New hope. New direction.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment