Memory

Waya dreams of a past life

I dreamed underneath the stars

While the babbling brook lulled me to sleep

Running away, I remember being hunted

Men carrying torches and led by bloodhounds

I ran into the forest and called brother bear

Asking for his help, to gather the others

Crossing the creek I tore my hem 

And urged them to spread my scent 

Startled I woke up, but not where I laid my head down

The sun was shimmering through pine and oak

I wondered, how did I get here, did I sleepwalk?

Then I pulled myself up to my feet and started to turn