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When the Geese Fly
Prayers in a season of change
The honking of the geese could be heard far from the lake. The birds were flying in large looping circles around the lake building their strength for a long upcoming migration.
To Man Face it was a beautiful sound but he did not want it to end. The subsequent quiet after the birds left would signal the coming of winter. While he welcomed the cooler temperatures of autumn, he did not want to go through another winter like the previous one.
The great blizzard of nine months ago took a heavy mental, physical and spiritual toll on the tribe Man Face was part of. Not everyone survived.
Sitting on the knoll looking in the direction of the lake, Man Face remembered his son who left for the spirit worlds during that snow. It was only his fifth winter. The sorrow of his loss followed Man Face through spring and summer, through every hunt and every dance. Every time the tribe moved to new camps his anguish followed close behind.
His wife, Blue Wind, was devastated. Man Face could not remember when she last smiled.
He looked up as many geese flew directly over him. The honking was like drumbeats that broke through into the spirit realms and transcended time. How he wished that he could fly like the birds, closer to the heavens. How he wished that…
