I see Bear Butte in the distance
It radiates red stone
Rock exposes its heated origins
The dormant volcano
The capitol dome of Dakota
Sacred mountain of the Lakota
A church with a conical spire
Sweat lodge confessionals at its base
Kneel before Bear Butte, pray for forgiveness
I am sinner
I am savior
I am hope
I am horror
I am problem, solution, and absolution
Bear Butte makes intentions known
I climb to the pinnacle through jagged slag heaps
I tie my red, black, white, and yellow prayer flags to the wind-worn boughs of a pine
I hear the flags flap in the frigid gale
My prayers are carried to the east, to the new day
All prayers go toward the sun because it offers faith in tomorrow
I eat a Power Bar on the peak, an apt communion on this altar
I see the four corners of the Upper Missouri Country
The land is so just
Reap what you sow
Plant feudalism and inequity and harvest it in abundance
Fill the silos with missiles
Pack the feedlots with repression
Then grow violent, fat, and filthy
I walk down from the mountain
I am not Moses, thank God
I don’t have any tablets with the answers
I remain ignorant, unknown, unknowable
As I am meant to be
A mystery man
I know so little, I want to know so much
Arrogance and insecurity or wonderment and imagination
My intentions flutter in the breeze at the apex
I did this for her, that she may know peace
My prayers are in the jet stream, circling the cardinal directions
The flapping flags, a reminder that the prayers are aloft
At the foot of the mountain I enter the sweat lodge to partake in Inipi
Naked
All my glaring inadequacies are shown to myself and Bear Butte
I am only a man and none too big at that
I pray for her in the womb of the earth
I am warm, safe, fetal, grounded so deep
I am crouched over myself, knees to chest, hands around shins, chin tucked in
I am untouchable
Flags hang down from the lodge ceiling
I feel ancient
The elders are here
I pray I am not an interloper
A white, privileged male accepted as son
Thank you
Out of the ground they come
All of us huddled together
No sight, no taste, no feel, only the sound of the mountain’s heartbeat welling up from below
Boom, boom, boom!
Steady, strong, old
I pray for her
Only good intentions, nothing in return
I pray four times, to each direction
Now I know the prayers will surely encircle her
I pray for my intentions, my life as one long intention
It is all I can decide to act upon
Keep on the red road, the road to the sun, to the new day
Why did you pick me elders?
This is odd for me
I am afraid of what it means
But then I remember
I am older than me
I am part of Bear Butte
I too welled up from below
I think of my intentions
I remember the mountain
I see the flags there
My prayers held up by the wind
I am the flags, I am the mountain, I am the wind