Saturday, January 26, 2008
26/366: John
In the sweat lodge, I find myself sobbing uncontrollably, the hurt so deep it anneals, changing me into something else. Afterward, he smudges me with smoke from the fire. “These Grandfather rocks can hold anything that you have brought here. Leave it with them.” I still have the wild turkey feather.
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1 comment:
Sounds amazing. I like the idea of leaving in the rocks whatever you brought with you.
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