Shamanism

Gratitude

Each year in gratitude

I return to the mountain,

From whence cometh my strength.*

Where I have heard:

The symphony of sounds here in the meadow.

Hearkened to the wind song of the pines

The gentle percussion of the aspen leaf,

Listened to Mother Earth;s plaintive wail,

Calling her creatures into quiet winter slumber.

Each year in gratitude

I return to the mountain

From whence cometh my strength.

Where I have seen:

The blue bird wing joyfully with its mate,

The chipmunk share my lunch

Nibble and chew, as if on stage,

Then scamper back

To taste my barren hand.

Each year in gratitude

I return to the mountain

From whence cometh my strength.

Where I have smelled:

The pine needle tinged with sharpness,

Sat beneath the sprawling spruce,

Replenished my soul

Amidst our Mother's musty renewal,

And filled my lungs with alpine ether.

Each year in gratitude

I return to the mountain

From whence cometh my strength.

Where I have felt:

The strong caress of mountain breeze

The piercing autumn chill,

The fresh moist zephyrs

As they waft across the lake

And held the frigid waters within my palm.

Each year in gratitude

I return to the mountain

From whence cometh my strength.

I have tasted:

Of the meadow grass

The bobbing yellow buttercup,

And the delicate green sage.

I have relished the simple fare provided

Savored the salty tear upon my lips.

The trumpeted notes of winter's cold

Have touched my soul

Joined me in the gentle swirl

From tree to flower, bee and squirrel.

And round about each pebble and rock,

Swelled my heart in rapturous painful love,

Lest I forget we are all the same

Each Fall as I return to the mountain

From whence cometh my strength.

Dr. Judith Sauceda, previously published

* Adapted from the 121st Psalm

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