this edge-walker went to the place where the rivers meet
where history is so steeped in the soil
she was sure she could hear the echos of many moccasins
gently padding from canoe to mighty fort.
She went to the centre of the bowl
where giant iron arcs reach to the sky
and point toward the constellations.
There she lay down
her face to the sky
her eyes closed against the brilliant sun.
She listened to the birds and the whispers of history.
She felt the sun as it warmed her cheeks.
She let the earth hold her in the centre of that giant circle.
For just a moment,
she let herself be the candle, the talking piece,
the container for the circle’s stories.
She came in from her place at the edge
for just a moment.
To heal, to dream, to be renewed.
To feel the energy at the centre.
To be the energy at the centre.
And then she heard the whisper.
From the years of history.
From the sacred ground that had carried generations of stories.
From the sun and the constellations.
From the Creator of them all.
From the same place her call to the edge had come.
“Your calling is bigger than you.”