Spirit of the West

Spirit of the West, I call on your ancestral orchestration to fill in the blanks of our earthly elements. Lie down and rest your seeds and blue wetness— the arid platform has given up on man and woman. The echoes of the dance are heard miles and miles away. My eyes cannot see them, but my heart reaches out— like the bean sprout that chases the nourishing underworld. The loud knocks are heard below. It’s dark, but the dim light reignites in its offering to my people. Climbing the reeds—wild and free— spirit possesses me. It guides my hand to plant your offerings in the fertile plains, so that one day, life will return to the heart of our growing children.