Over the rim of the horizon they came, rising up from the earth. Bounteous, multitudinous, living, glorious. The Old Ones of Turtle Island. The gods and spirits of the land.
The beat of innumerable drums reverberated through the air. The cadence of countless rattles rained down from the sky.
Some came in human form, tall and noble. Others wore the magnificent shapes of animals. As they descended upon the Plain of the Great Heart, they danced and they sang.
O Siem
We are all family
There was Old Man Coyote, Trickster of the Great Plains. He howled at the moon to announce his arrival. Beside him ran Grandmother Spider along with Fox, Hare, and Possum. Through the night air flew Raven of the Pacific Tsimshian, who made the western waves flow free by tricking the Old Woman who held onto the tide line. And with Raven came Crow of the Tagish-Tlingit who cast sand on the earth when it was flooded with water.
“Become the land!” Crow had cried.
O Siem
We’re all the same
Tall and beautiful, White Buffalo Calf Woman walked so lightly that her feet barely touched the ground. It was she who gave the gift of the Sacred Pipe to the people so they would know the unity of all things. The bowl of the Pipe was fashioned of red stone, the color of the flesh and blood of mammals. The wooden stem harkened to trees and plants and all things green and growing. The smoke from the Pipe was the sacred wind, the breath that carries prayers to Wakan Tanka, the Creator. It was White Buffalo Calf Woman who taught the people to offer the Pipe to Earth and Sky and the Four Directions.
O Siem
The fires of freedom
In the sky above, the night was shadowed by an immense winged shape. It was Pe-ya-siw—Thunderbird—Lord of the Heavens. His plumage gleamed with the colors of the rainbow. His eyes flashed lightning. His voice rumbled thunder.
Below on the plain stepped the humpbacked Flute-Player. He was the one who brought the seasons and gifted the people with the seeds of plants. Beside him walked Fisher the Hunter, who dwelled in the sky amidst the stars of the Big Dipper. Once upon a time, he broke into Skyland with his friends Otter, Lynx, and Wolverine. They released all the birds who now flew in the world.
Strong winds came sweeping over the plain. White Bear, the north wind, brought the cold breath of ice and snow. Moose, the east wind, shook rain from his antlers. Gentle Fawn, the south wind, blew warm sweet air while Panther, the west wind, struck with sudden force.
Dance in the burning flame.
Glooskap, he who was also called Koluscap and Gluscabi, was dressed for war. Fierce and robust, he had painted his face half-black, half-white. He rode upon a stallion that was also black and white. In his hands were a shield and spear of the same colors. A great eagle perched on his shoulder. Glooskap lived in a tent with Woodchuck, his grandmother. Another of his names was Odzihozo, “the One who made Himself.” For after Tabaldak made human beings of dust, there was one last bit that got sprinkled on the earth. Glooskap took form from that bit and sat up and looked around.
“Well, here I am,” he said.
It is the Mi’kmaq in the east who tell the story of the time Glooskap went to the Summer Land to get help to stop Old Man Winter. Glooskap told his friend Loon about his plan.
“There’s a land where the sun shines all year and it’s always summer. I’m going there to meet their queen. Maybe she can help us deal with Old Man Winter.”
“Good idea,” said Loon. “Try singing her a song. Women like that.”
Siem o siyeya
All people of the world
There also came one whom Laurel knew, the one who had helped her in her hour of need: Nanabush, Trickster-Hero of the Anishinabe Ojibwa. It was he who brought the gift of fire to the people. After he stole it from the Fire-Keeper, he ran fast and far in a great relay with Cougar, Fox, Squirrel, Antelope, and Frog. Nanabush was the son of the West Wind and he had many powers. When he was a child, he lived with his grandmother, Nokomis. One day he was so hungry he turned himself into a rabbit so that he could eat the grass. Nokomis cradled him in her arms and called him Nanabozho, her “little rabbit.”
Siem o siyeya
It’s time to make the turn
These were but some of the Old Ones who arrived on the plain, laughing, invincible, fearless, joyous. As they crossed the battlefield, singing all the while, the dark army fled before them. The warriors among the Old Ones smote the baneful creatures down. Those who were animals swallowed them up. Everywhere the enemy was in turmoil and despair, for here was beauty and light that could not be defied.
The Old Ones continued to sing as they vanquished the dark till not a trace of the foul army was left on the plain. Now the Singers advanced on the fiery rampart. Without pausing their song, they walked into the fire. And they danced and they sang at the heart of the flames.
Siem o siyeya
A chance to share your heart
The song they sang within the flames was one of triumph over pain and loss. They sang of the wounded side of humanity, of the many peoples who walked the trail of tears upon the earth. For the most powerful songs and the most enduring are those that rise to overcome adversity, to survive and prevail. They sang the song of the Risen People.
Siem o siyeya
To make a brand-new start
And as they sang they quenched the fire till there was nothing but ashes that blew away in the wind.
And watch the walls come tumbling down.
Their song finished, their work done, the Old Ones left the plain.
And so the battle ended that night. The claps of thunder and the winds and the storms had ceased their disturbance. The uproar of the elements and the sky and the land had been stilled. A great peace and harmony settled over everything. For all had been cleansed and healed and whatever was foul had been banished. There arose the greatest tranquillity to play its part in the Divine Plan.
Dana lay on the grass in front of the portal. She had no strength left to move. Vaguely she sensed those who reached out to help her: members of her guard, the black wolf that was Jean, fairies of Clan Creemore. But they couldn’t touch her. She was already beyond them. She heard their calls, heard the wolf’s howl, but there was no turning back. They were in the Land of the Living. She had gone into the Dreaming.
Only Grandfather was calm. He stood on Magh Croí Mor, but he was also in the cemetery beside Thomas Gowan’s grave. A brief smile crossed his lips as he touched the white bird carved on Thomas’s tombstone. With a rush of pale wings, the bird flew into the air. Flying high like a lark, it let out a call-note of sorrow and joy.
From the great forest around the plain, the cry was echoed a hundredfold. Up from the trees, in a blur of white flight in the moonlight, rose the soul-birds of Faerie. The night resounded with the sibilance of wings. Feathery voices rang through the air.
Swooping down on the plain, the birds flew toward Dana and lifted her into their midst. Without substance or weight, she was lighter than a feather. As they carried her to the portal they sang a Homecoming song. With melodious voices, unearthly and sweet, they sang of her quest, her mission, and her sacrifice.
• • •
Lost in the daze of her dying, Dana saw faces on the heads of the birds that carried her. They were the faces of those she knew, both human and fairy: her family, her friends, and all who had helped her. Jean was there beside her. And it was Grandfather who led their flight. Everyone she had ever loved was in that shining flock. In that moment she knew they were a vision to accompany her death. Dana accepted the honor with gladness, for it showed the wealth of her life however brief.
Once upon a time she was the light to bridge the darkness. Now she was the key to open the door.
As the soul-birds of Faerie bore her through the portal of the Great Heart, Dana sensed an infinity of doors opening everywhere, in minds and hearts, in distant lands, on distant worlds, all bursting open like flowers as she went Home.