Sleep and winter.
Deep waters and frozen earth
Silence

These things heal us, even though we may dread them.
Taking the time to walk in the darkness,
To hold that dark space within me
To hold myself in tenderness
Even when I am full of rage and despair
Sometimes I forget how profoundly important it is for me
To sit with this.
To just be.

On the 28^th of September, 2020 I read that the ACLU had won a lawsuit in Montana
that was about voter suppression of the Native peoples there.
They won, so now the tribes will be able to vote again.
The article listed the names of the tribes that were included in the suit
and there on the list was the Assiniboine Sioux Nation, my sister’s people.

The darkness of grief was the only thing that held me
Back in the days after we lost her
The darkness of grief
Like a deep pool in the forest
Which I had tried so hard to avoid

I sought it then
Clawing my way through the wet branches of the trees,
Rushing over the sodden mulch of the earth
The stinging nettles and clinging blackberry vines
Tearing at my skin and hair and clothes

I stumbled into the clearing, fell over a log covered in moss
Pulled myself up again, muddy, bruised, stung and scraped
And there was the pool.

Dark water silent
I wanted to dive in and go under
But when I got to the lip of the pool
Something stopped me

An owl feather floated on the water
I fell to my knees again, weeping

Then the rain came
Not a hard rain, but steady
Hammering the leaves
Pattering the top of my head
Like so many fingertips touching me
Still weeping
Weeping
Until I gulped in the clean dark air.

I was soaked.
I got up slowly and looked at the water
Rippling now as a breeze crossed the surface
The sticks and logs poking in, or out from it
Like the arms of a ships wheel
Mossy and glossy with dark slime, but peaceful.

My feet squelched in the mud when I tried to move
I looked down and saw that my feet were both 3 inches deep in the mud
This made me smile

A frog began chirruping
Not a chorus of them, just one
And I drew breath.
Whole.