Paul G

Posted by Risha Linda Mateos

Drum, Sage and Fry Bread

My blood has only a small percentage Cherokee,
Yet, I love the Sacred Circle.
The drum speaks to me in a language of no words.
The chanting liberates me. I am formless and free.
The sweet smell of sage drifts through the air like a lazy spirit,
touching, embracing and moving on.
Fry bread crackles in hot oil, spitting, bubbling and beckoning.
I wander through the trading tents
and dream of beads and hides and feathers.
A small hand drum calls to me
as I tap its surface gently with my finger.
It is not a perfect drum, it is an egg, but it sings a good song
that reaches inside of me.
It is a worthwhile buy and I am pleased as I claim it.
The afternoon cools and the rains come
as I take refuge in the herbal tent.
I feel at home in this place.
Herbs are my medicine and teas of choice.
What I cannot grow or harvest from the wild,
I buy at the herbal tent.
As the rains pass, I walk around the empty circle
and look for fry bread.
No honey, just hot, tasty bread, very desirable and filling.
The evening comes and people gather for the Grand Entry.
Dizzying displays of color and craft.
Homage in song and dance and drum
as everyone shares the joy.
Bells jiggling, fringe swirling, feet tamping the earth.
We are transformed. Full blood and mixed blood and guest
all unite to give honor and pay respect to this noble heritage.

__________________
New to the site--Introduce Yourself Need Help--FAQ--Search
Feedback--Post your suggestions

MyTribalSpace.com | NativeGatherings.com | PowWows.com Podcast | Indigitunes.com
NativeSeek.com | Pow Wow TV | Pow Wow Radio | NativeMusicSource.com Radio | NDN411.com | eSnag Online Dating

Pow Wow TV - Find out how you could win a 42" Plasma TV!