Kiva

Touching the past.

I entered the kiva
down a ladder of wood
as though descending through time
to the womb of this holy place.

Chants and prayers
songs and drumming
Stranded sounds of the past
still echo here.

My hand touches the cool stone
of the kiva wall.
My heart is touched
by the spirit of the Ancient Ones.

I have come home.
I am reborn,
baptized in the consciousness 
of my ancient brothers.

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