by: Patricia Rickey


Guardians of the sacred
Dream teachers
I am surrounded by the wild animals
The lion has me pinned, its claws piercing my skin
Holding me to the ground
How am I surviving this? It is not possible
They look. Just look. Silently into my eyes
What do they want? Why. I am confused
I wake up drenched in sweat, fear and confusion
An image I will never forget, the primal dream
And through the years they come to me
Lifting their huge bodies to peer in my window and watch me while I sleep
To linger in the woods, roam the sacred meadows
Calling me out to walk among them
To walk the road
It is always the same
Why, why are they here?
How can it be that I can be among them and safe?
Why do they come looking for me?
And why do they let me pass
Pass through their sacred lands
I know this. I know these places are sacred
I know these are the guardians
You can feel it
Feel the delicate balance, the danger of not being in their honor and attempting to pass
What will happen if you attempt to go where you have no right to go, when you are in sacred places?
No one goes into these sacred places, who is not meant to be there
They are the guardians
And through the years you learn, slowly, with great patience they show you
Honor, respect, coexistence, peace and tolerance
And now you are not simply allowed to pass where others can not
Now you belong and are one
It is a sacred space that is shared
The sacred is honored
And it is time to write the story
The story that no one else can write
Because the grasses that wave in the wind in the home of the lions sacred place
Holds many stories that are all different and do not fit one form
Are all sacred, eternal, indestructible, their own
And no one can pass through here without honor and respect
The guardians are here to teach us that
And to keep the sacred places sacred and indestructible