Ancestors

Her eyes focused on her shadow. The sun was bright and intense high above, illuminating the blue sky.  The people surrounded her, lying on the ground, dying. Or dead. She knew because of the smell. The grass blew back and forth. Seeds lifted from the ground and swirled into the air then disappeared. Wouldn’t that be nice, she thought, to be like a seed. Here one minute, gone the next, but never truly gone. 

The jingles on her dress chimed against one another. She felt the pounding of the drum under her feet where the earth breathed to its rhythm. It was all she could do. If only there were others, she thought. 

Her shadow left her side. It began to dance gracefully, powerfully. A grass dancer. Then he divided in two. Fancy shawl. Then she divided once more, until all around the arbor shadows danced to the drumbeat. Other sounds of jingles joined with hers. Then, from the shadows, their physical forms erupted.

The first plant to respond was the strawberry. It fell from the beadwork of a woman’s regalia in front of her, whom she recognized as her great-great aunt. She didn’t know how she knew it was her relative, but she knew. The strawberry began to pulse and its vines moved outside the dance circle and began to cover the piles of dead and dying bodies. Next the cedar tree leaned over from the forest and dropped her greenery. The smell was rich and sweet. Then the otter ran out of the water and began to tie the various plants together. Other animals and birds joined in until a blanket had been made.

No one stopped dancing.

Finally the night came. He was all deep blues and purples at first. Then he was black with small points of light everywhere. 

The cries from the drum suddenly became louder, more urgent. The beat changed. All of the dancers raised their eagle feathers. Bezhig, niizh, niswi, niiwin.  Then silence.

It was done.

The girl kneeled down, exhausted. The other dancers disappeared and her shadow was at her side once more. All around her a beautiful blanket of cedar, strawberries, sumac, mint, wiike, birch, chickory and plants of all sorts covered the ground. Her ancestors.

To transform is to live, and we are all transformers.