26 Jun Bear Song, A Poem By Camila Uriona

Around the circle,
nine humans from diverse cultures,
other latitudes—

seated, expectant
for the newness of the experience:
a drumming and meditation circle

As we begin the journey,
we choose our drums

I pick one that calls me by my name
and I feel like a little girl,
just gifted with a new doll
The knowledge keeper—
a Cree woman—chants in her language,
her voice, like the river behind us,
merges with the shy humming
of these nine humans

She smudges the space where we stand
and those of us who accept
receive the smoke of sage,
one of the sacred medicine plants
of Pachamama,
Mother Earth

With faith, I wash and wrap myself
in a white,
delicate warmth
that rests on my eyes,
my mouth, my ears—
the rest of me dissolving
into the ground

We call our grandparents and ancestors
invite them to be present
as we play the drums,
following what becomes
a powerful, unified
bam bam bam

We see—
we see each other
as we share this sacred instant

My tense body,
present despite its aches,
holding a deep need
for cleansing and clarity

as if this moment—
this very moment we now inhabit—
needs the smudge,
the healing too

After eight or so songs
as we accompany the ceremony
with our drumming,

the woman offers
the power of the Bear Song
to heal us—

the land,
the water,
the trees

We understand:
we are one

Above us,
a muted sun hides
behind gathering gray clouds

the air crisp,
wind rising—
one woman grows uneasy,
fearing the rain

For a moment
I catch myself thinking—
the rain should be a blessing

for the medicine plants
in the garden,
for the animals
for the birds
singing their songs

even the fallen branches
and the rocks
seem alive

The wind hushes against my body
Its strength brings me hope

My ancestors stand around me
I am drumming and singing
in a language not my own

chanting, striking
a surface that is my grandmother

I am told:
this deer hide drum I chose
represents
all that feels,
all that is,
female

Then he comes—

the bear

in the unicity of now
he approaches, steady, certain

I see him clearly
walking toward me
his presence powerful

his eyes —closed —meet mine

and he embraces me
swallows
my heart,
my pain,
my aches

then leaves slowly

his steps heavier now
as he carries
What I could not

To close the ceremony
the knowledge keeper
offers the sound of her drum—
a special one, she says,
buffalo hide

powerful energy

its vibration travels
through my body

healing what is still open

and the sound returns me
to the first thing I ever heard
before I was born—

my mother’s heartbeat