Dream-catching
Now I’ll tell you the story the Ojibwa shaman
told me when she was dreaming her vision quest
I slept with a brown bear in a cave of flowers
under blueberries and a will-o-the-wisp ball
and there were stones to ground and smooth
her shudders and my hunger and my soul shaking
I made love to the bear in a warm cave and through
our embraces I felt the pangs of roots
the taboo words charging into seething sap
all the immortal mysteries of my tribe
I rose in the morning mist with the bear
her child now I was layered in green leaves
and dark petals born of secrets and sighs
I’d fallen with my lover into the primeval other
carrying my ancient mother on a new skin
on a heart made of branches and berries
partly human over spelt-bread and cedar tea
I nuzzle at night into her musky lettered fur
“Invisible Streams” B.W. Powe (Upcoming Publication)