An invitation accepted
headed out to Orange off the 55 Fwy
an everyday neighborhood where
neighbors, who didn’t want parking
left trash cans to block their curb.
Ten women gathered some tattooed
and pierced, all artists, poets, healers
and together they dreamed
a guided meditation to go deep
into the psych to heal family
for generations.
Prayers were said
breathed into rose petals and leaves
songs offered, stories told
all arranged into a dispacio,
a layered prayer of stories and symbols
to the underworld, the earth, then the heavens
compiled with prayers from other sessions
then wrapped with yarn and burned in a fire.
Ash floated in the air
our backs turned to the let the laments
and promises disperse in smoke -
memories of golden panthers, dreams
and ancestors.
I finally understood
why the wolf howls at the moon
and why I must honor
my daughters-in-law.
When the fire was done
we gathered together
to share a meal and learn
more from each other.
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