Native Sacrifice
A bracing mid-forty-degree chill fills this sun-spilling air.
Suddenly, my being is that of an Ojibwe mystic
Preparing to sacrifice his spirit to the spirits of the water.
Without even opening the bolted kitchen door,
I walk out onto the cabin's side porch,
Float down its steep stairway, to the lake, naked,
Oblivious to the possibility that anyone might be watching me.
I'm anonymity's invisible participant in epiphany,
History's prodigal child, come home to sacrifice his soul
To the earth's and sky's most ancient traditions,
A tribal witness to this land's listening ears and eyes.
Now, I step, ankle-, knee- thigh-, hip-, chest-, head-deep,
Amidst the prismatic liquid fire
And, without extinguishing a single flame, become a ripple.
09/18/10 - (2)
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