The Midden

 image m.theglobeandmail.com

Over the years
in which I walked this land,
watching it slowly return
to its natural state,
I have discovered
I do not walk here
alone.

The day I found the midden,
broken clay pots, arrowheads,
realizing it was a burial mound,
I withdrew,
feeling my presence unwelcome
on such sacred ground.

The land allowed me to explore
its steppes and, over time,
revealed itself to me,
with all its secrets of the past.

It became a touchstone 
for my imaginings
of those long-gone days
upon the land.

There have been times, 
looking up,
when my vision shifted,
to encompass pelt-clad maidens
and braves with feathers in their hair,
moving across the fields 
as they did in days of old.

When next I looked down, 
and up again,
they disappeared.

And I wondered:
was this me, here, being shown
a vision from the past?
Was it a parallel reality, 
occurring alongside mine?
Or was I the odd, 
unfitting apparition
in this landscape
that did not - could not ever-
belong to me?

Was I seeing them in days gone by,
or were they seeing me
as a premonition
of  peril?

In time, with respect, 
being careful not to intrude,
I began to feel their acceptance
of me, there.

But never again could I find
the burial mound.
It had completely
disappeared.

Hannah's Transforming Friday challenge at Real Toads is to write from the point of view of a resident of the prairies. I have read most of Sharon Butala's beautiful books about her life in south west Saskatchewan, including a favorite, Wild Stone Heart. In this book, the author describes her walking of a particular field on her husband's sprawling ranch. They had agreed to allow this field to return to its natural state and she writes of her experiences coming to know this stretch of land. She tells of finding a burial mound one day, on a raised promontory, overlooking the lower landscape. Feeling her presence was intrusive, she quickly withdrew. But she could never find it again.

She tells of having  visions, or somehow being able to see, the aboriginal early dwellers on this land, as they went about their daily lives. Fascinating stuff. She also wrote two other faves, The Perfection of the Morning and Coyote's Morning Cry.

I am behind in commenting, kids, as have been knocked upside the head by fatigue. But I promise I will make my way to all of your blogs in the coming days.