Her name was Gypsy. She was a world traveler and she was searching the world for protection.
She met many strangers along the way who became part of her collection. Strangers she collected who became her friends.
She would take pictures of them and etch then in paint onto plates and place them in a circle around her home. Every evening she would pray to the Great Spirit that they would find their passion to continue on and become the people they dreamed of.
One day, she decided to take a trip into the trees and underworld of the rocks and moss.
There she would meet the wolves and whisper into each of their ears a message. A personal message that was to be delivered to each one of her friends.
She would climb to the highest rock, each wolf following her and when she reached the top she would stop. In her right hand was a seagull feather and in her left hand was a rock covered with soft cowhide she would use to beat and drum the ground.
Her silvery grey hair blowing in the wind seemed to gust up at the signal of her hand. She hit the drum and dropped the feather. One by one at the beat of the drum, each wolf slowly made its way down the rock to the four directions and four sub directions. Eight wolfs making their way down the rock with the message that had been whispered in their ear. And with the sound of the sound of the drum beating in the distance, they would visit her friends in the evening of their dreams. Each message was personal and life altering and she was happy and smiled at her work.
Christine Gaidies – July 2007 Written for and about Sandra
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