A Medicine Walk

Holding the question in mind and heart,
I cross the threshold.

The wind seemed to push me, as if to say,
This walk has been waiting a long time
for you.

At first, everything seemed to contrast. 
The smooth blue and soft-clouded sky
Against the jagged edged canyon wall,
The immovable boulders
Between dancing flexible desert brush.

Even, the dog scared me
In the thinking she was something other than her.

I took a different path,
Not sure how,
The sand was softer, the view was higher
Though I had to move through tall shrubs and jump off small cliffs.

Eventually, the path became familiar
Leaving the enclosure of the steep canyon
Into a more open valley.

A Sphinx moth,
White and red, like a hummingbird,
On the land, trying fly.
Unsure of it’s struggle,
Amazed by it’s size and beauty
And caught by the expression in its’ eyes,
I stayed to be with it.

Moving it to safer ground,
removing the ants gripping its wings,
The more I hoped to help, the more I couldn’t help
but feel I was preventing what needed to be done.

I walked away.

I felt the calling of my journal. 
Wanting so much to return to this comfortable friend.
Reminding myself,
I will remember what I am meant to receive from this journey.
Struggle, comfort, discomfort, seeking ease.

The distractions become as easy to catch as the wind. 
My work in this world, my purpose, those that I care for, my community…
What rock to sit on to write?…
That one! 
Conglomerate, by the curved eroded red canyon wall.

Distraction, distraction…
and returning to the question I am holding in me,
Returning to the land.

The whole medicine wheel is flying at me,
in it’s complimentary colors of healing.
A black and gold moth beacons me.
Bright red Indian paintbrush growing beside white dying branches
A bee drinking from the flower.
Remembering that Poplar Sphinx moth.

Along the mesa cliffs,
A green tree is brighter than all the rest
Exclaiming, “I am different and I want to be seen as such!...”
“…Though, clearly, I am intertwined with you for the betterment of our existence,” whispering to the tree it hugs.

The ceremony smells of sage and clearing,
The prayers familiar and deeper.
How long can I watch an eagle fly
Close by and far off.
Knowing my dog had to silently, with her gaze,
point it out to me in the first place.


The moth is gone.

It is so much scarier to cross the threshold out---
To being in the human world,
To being in the living of this medicine.