The Cormorant

part of a ceremony i learned in oklahoma

She stands outside the tipi

In the cold night and waits,

Holds the water bucket

For the midnight prayer.

She hears the familiar songs

Four midnight chants four times,

And midnight's eagle-bone whistle,

Four fluting sounds like an eagle's cry.

The songs and whistles call her,

The fireman helps her inside, she's

Handed the tobacco and corn shuck,

Rolls her prayer-smoke in silence.

She sees the cormorant the fireman made

From hot coals outside the crackling fire,

Inside the crescent of the red dirt moon,

Such beauty as he hands her the smoke stick.

Smoke lit, she no longer sees the fire-bird,

She's one with the smoke now, going up

And up with her cormorant-words to the Creator,

Then tilts the water to honor Mother Earth.

The fireman takes the bucket,  

The first person has a cold sip,

The next and the next and the next,

Water shared with all who sit in the circle.

The fireman opens the tipi door,

She puts the bucket outside,

And rejoins the circle of her people --

Her prayer didn't last long but will echo and spread forever.

Author's Note

Please tell me if anything is too unclear.
All constructive comments are welcome. Thanks for reading!

Reviews

[Brian Shepard]

Dear heart, I cannot convey in simple words how beautiful this is. First off, I feel as if this is the perfect poetic compliment to a series of your prose involving memories that you have shared and which I believe should be collected into a single memoir and published. Second, there is a suggestion that the cormorant has a dual existence- both as an object and as a reflection or avatar of the writers spirit. Third, the fact that all the players have roles rather than personal pronouns, and that all objects have descriptive titles rather than standard names expertly translates the ritual aspects into something sacred that the reader experiences rather than is told about..This is beautiful Lee. Write more of these delightful poetic visions.

[LJ]

You're too generous, yet I'm so glad you took part in this with me, and that you did find words to say what you mean. It makes me emotional right now, and not really able to make any separate observation. Thank you, all the time thanks.

[Brian Shepard]

Youre one hell of a storyteller dear- you encourage us (the reader) forward gently- you never pull us or push us (a problem with my own writing I'm ashamed to say)- instead we want to walk with you and see and feel and touch the things you are sharing with us- and thats the heart of your writing: you aren't telling as much as you are sharing. So maybe I should say you're one hell of a story sharer. I love walking with you, I love leisurely bearing witness to the sublime beauty of a simple life made magical by the emotional attachments you, the writer, imbues the story with. Well done dear. Well done.

[Betty Hermelee]

WOW! This is an amazing ritualistic poem; almost mythical, traditions, magical in all aspects of this strong and yet beautiful poem. The water bucket a central, important part of this ceremony so well described; the Cormorant (fire bird) is so mystical and I imagine an important symbol of this ritual group; every word is important; You have incredible imagination to conjure up the theme of this poem. Excellent!

[LJ]

Thank you, Betty; this is a very kind review.