It was winter when he left the reservation. No one sought a vision in the winter, but he did, he needed to. Maybe vision wasn’t the right word, but he was searching for cleansing……some type of hope, anything really. Despair and vodka had taken their toll. It was good to be in the mountains again, even with the snow. And he smiled noticing how slow his mule was.
He had everything he needed, the mule, a good rifle, his bow (that he had made years ago from the finest oak), and a small lodge with blankets. He knew he was also carrying grief for his people, the poverty and sickness slowly killing them…. yes a vision is what they all needed.
Days later, with a fire going….. the vision came in the smoke and flames. He saw his people being reborn. It was spring and everything was blooming. The people were strong and happy…. not sick at all.
He knew he must take this vision back to his people, to encourage each one. The end of all things…. was not quite not yet.
They would all live again.
Writing Copyright © 2015, revised 2020 rivers renewed, image from Pinterest, Crow Scout taken 1908
Note: This was not written initially about the virus, but I think it applies today.