It's been a terrible week. When all my hope is gone and I think there is no more reason to live, I remember these two. Mother Earth and my writing...my work.

WORK


Visions of rage reverberate in his mind and Bernard drops to his knees on the edge of the forest and clasps his hands together to pray. But like his name and his black robe, the rituals he has been taught are too new for his heart to trust.

So he stands and rips the hated robe from his body and flings it as far away from him as he can. Then he prostrates himself on Mother Earth, his fingers clutching at her soil, his face buried in her sweet green grass and begs her forgiveness.

“Oh Great Mother, I am lost. The evil ones have stripped me of my family, my language, and my ancient ties to you. Although my flesh remains, I am but a hollow shell. I beg you to help me to remember my true name and my sacred path or free me from this life.”

He cannot stop the water pouring from his eyes or the despair filling his heart and throat. But he vows that if Mother Earth refuses him, he will find some way to free himself.

Perhaps he sleeps and it is only in his dreams that he hears her voice.

“Oh my son, you should know that I have never left you. Release the thoughts of death that plague you, it is not your time. There is still great work for you in this life.”

He opens his eyes to the moonlight and a tug on his hand. A great she-wolf stands before him, waiting. He feels no fear as he pushes himself to his feet.

She trots to the edge of the forest and stops to look back at him.

He whispers his thanks for this guide and follows her, knowing that she will lead him back home.