"The desert bears only a scathing sun, and nothing more."
"What about mirages?"

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Smudge - Prose.

Sweet grass smoke stifles the room with the chilling presense of spirituality. As the shell is passed around and each person douses themselves in a moment of silent prayer, I find myself wondering what it is they're praying for, what it is they hope to bless. The shell is set before me and I take a moment to wash myself in the haze. My face, my hands, my heart. I pass the smudging bowl on before I realize I forgot to pray.


  1. but being in the experience
    is a blessing.

    good one.


  2. Great description and atmosphere. Sat in a restorative justice class with a Cree elder and took part in the same. Thought I was being humble, then a lady signaled for me to take my hat off.


"Write with our backs to the wind and our faces to the hard, bleaching sun."