by Loretta Kemsley
I am drinker of the wind, daughter of the stars. This is my voice that I claim in the name of the gods.
I am lover of the meadow, keeper of the ponies, large and small. It is to me that the deer speak and the raccoon wanders.
I am born of the sea and the moon, meant to be heard, gifted with words.
By day, I lay upon the golden grasses as they chatter in the breeze, warmed by the sun, watching the yellow butterfly flutter through life.
By night, I listen to the creek, seek the wisdom of the snake and dream of the power the buffalo.
The clouds are my steed, the cats my companions. While I sleep, they linger nearby. The beaver readies the waters for my wakening.
Gold and silver bring the magic of colored stones to my side. Turquoise and lapis offer their protection. The pine and the elm are my cathedral.
It is the dawn of the day and the sunset heralding the night, the times of change, that infuse me with their song. It is then that life is poignant and full. It is then that I hear.
The clear flute haunts the canyons, blending with the song bird, wending down through the valley and into my soul. The mothers chant words that mean nothing and everything, carried on the air, uttering the ebb and flow of my spirit.
The fathers' drum, distant and rhythmic, beats within my heart, expanding its power, steadying my cadence, my march through time. It calls me to dance in celebration.
In another time, another life, I was a warrior, proud and free. In this life, I have chosen another path, hobbling the warrior's traits but not his soul. He longs to be untethered. He yearns to feel the pony surge beneath him, wild and invincible. He wants to hunt again, not the hunt of death but of the universe, where the heavens tell tales and the animals converse. It is them I seek. I will listen while my pony prances.