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Flowers left for Rebekah Eams
Quietly sitting before a small fire, I reflect upon my people. I find myself reaching for my pouch, and Using a language taught to me, A language carried through time,By the apparitions before me and my ancestors, I offer, from my heart, I bring out a matter of medicine and ask the medicine for guidance,To protect my people. I ask that we be filled with the Wisdom, knowledge and understandingOf life and truth, The traditional way that was given to them. That which have been used for centuriesIn such a sacred manner.The Words that the medicine recognizes. And as the smoke heads upward from my small fire,Carrying the medicine and words ,a black bear passes by near the steam before me seeking for a cool drink of water. It is here, that No English words, no books, no mockery,Just the reality of something very sacred is felt and heard… the Echoes in the winds of my ancestors.
- Beca
 Added: Jul. 9, 2009

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