His name is White Eagle, and he is a shaman. Long white hair, thin, ethereal. His voice, hypnotic and melliflous, both gentle yet powerful. He is to read me; proclaim my spirit name through a private session. I close my eyes as he drifts through my mind and heart. The music rises and fills the tiny room, as the smell of burning sage wafts on the air. He chants, he speaks, tells me things I don’t understand and others that I have never told anyone. He knows me.
©2018 Linda Lee Lyberg
MLMM; Heeding Haiku with Chèvrefeuille