Sundance

Sundance is coming. I can feel the excitement. "Braid your hair young one and say your prayers." says kokum always making sure I braid and pray.

My prayer is this, "Oh Great Father, you who are most holy and reside in all your people, thank you for this time. We are the Red Pheasant First Nations and we are gathering to thank you for all that we have and all that we are. Father let us feel your love as we see the old ones who come to help us remember the ways of our people. Let all that is sacred rejoice for we are sending you a voice. All my relations."

I could hear the wagon groaning and the horses snorting as grandfather pulled the team up to the tent. "Child, get in. The people wait for us. It is time to start the ceremonies."

It is what we do as Prairie Cree. It is the time now and even the oldest one, great Grandmother Maggie, hurried as much as her old bones would let her. We will give thanks and dance and run on soft green grass.

I sit on top the teepee poles and hold onto a large black pot that will swing over a campfire. We are going to Sundance.