Strange Things Happen on the Way Home from Ceremony

Three Points—

open desert,



Belly full of venison

first bite to fire, offerings

spirit tradition

feeding the ancients,

seeding the soul, honoring.

Pipe smoked,

story talk Uncle-Priest, tribe elder.

Black wolf spirit, waya,

came to me,

hovering over his bloodied body on the road.

Red blood of the wolf tribe,



vermillion on the black top,

black fur flying.

White people, my people

don’t care, white car.

They just hit it and run on by.


Yellow yarrow blooming by the road,

tobacco offerings in prayer.

We pull over.

Give offerings,

smoke, prayer, bless,

cry for wolf,

to guardians, all my relations.

We ask for forgiveness

for loss,

for waste,

for sacrifice.

Black wolf spirit, waya is released

as are we.

We move on.

2015 copyright by Katie Pifer

wolf shaman


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