Twisted Hair

Holly McClure.

www.hollysullivanmcclure.com

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Twisted Hair lifted the great staff high in a salute. He must not let them see his fear, or know how weary the journey
left him. They must see him as the holy man who walked the land through all the tribes and nations, gathering wisdom
from their stories and bringing them home.

***
Again a vision stirred before him. He saw a strange man
in a long black coat, kneeling on the ground at the head of a
great procession of his people. Pale strangers stood nearby
with their weapons. The man in black lifted his hands toward
the sky and began to speak in a loud voice. I will lift up
mine eyes unto these hills from whence comes my help.
****
He watched them walk a long hard trail marked with shallow
graves. He saw how they grieved many deaths but this was
not their deepest sorrow. They had lost the homeland, the
very flesh and bones of the ancestors. Behind them, in Shacona-gee, lingered the spirits that empower holy people to
keep the sacred ways and hold harmony in the world. There
lay secret places where invisible immortals watched over
them. In the deep forests, Awi Usdi and his people roamed,
and unseen doorways marked entrances to the world of the
immortals. Little people no longer danced in the clearings
but retreated to the safety of lands beyond the houses of the
strangers.
***

He told them of the mother town in the bend of the river, and
of the wise Keetoowah who lived there. A seven sided
council house sat atop a mound in the middle of town.
Inside, the sacred fire burned unquenched through the years,
a symbol of the unity and harmony of our people. There, the
spirit of our people was strong, and the knowledge gained by our ancestors was kept alive and taught to the young. When
we reclaim the sacred ground where our ancestors lived, and rekindle the sacred fire, our strength will return.

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