apsute’gan (gift)

Screenshot 2019-11-22 at 10.57.22


She recognizes me,

reads my grief

and reaches for her phone.

She shows me a black-and-white-photo of closed hands

On smoothened sheets

Fingers braided across furry sage.

Then she takes out a grey feather, greased and frayed.

I watch her pinch the filaments in her fist and pull downwards,

roughing them up,

like she’s backcombing badly damaged hair.

She hands the feather to me.

“I like to do this exercise with women

who have healing to do”, she says, “watch.”

Her fingers slide up and down the hollow spine

Aligning each blade until the feather

Reclaims its shape.

“See that?” she says, “You can do that any time, with anyone who needs it.

It shows us everything

can be made

whole again.”



We’lalin, Maura, Early Rising Woman – rest in power. Nmul’tes.

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