Sunday, July 19, 2015

The Last Post For The Blog Page

“Here, let me help you dear,” said Daisy, “You’re so pale. Lay down.”

I didn’t feel colorless but my world turned a nightmarish grayscale. Nothing remained of resolve, fight, gumption, or will. Lifting my casted leg to the bed with her one hand, Daisy (I hoped it was Daisy) helped me lay back while she still held the crystal on her finger.

“Migizi, seven days have passed since you left. Seven, it’s the number of completeness, of fullness. Seven sevens of years have taken place since you and Jay died, you of spirit, and him of body. It’s time,” said Daisy.

Suddenly and utterly exhausted, I fought to keep my eyes open while seeing Daisy’s extended right arm, finger pointing, coming at my face slowly. A spent, red, shotgun shell rested in the palm of her left hand.

“See ya soon honey,” Daisy said, “when you return that is.”

Pressing her finger tip against the center of my forehead, the itty-bitty grain of crystallized life embedded itself into grisly old skin. I fell asleep to the sound of Daisy’s angelic chanting and prepared to take flight.

We Meet Again
Opening my eyes, Daisy was gone, my cast was gone, and pain was gone. As if never injured, I walked to the front door and was greeted with cedar-generated fresh air. Instinctively, I raised and lowered outstretched arms a few times and they changed to wings of Eagle.

Behind me, the cuckoo bird popped out of its clock and said farewell with four cuckoos. 

Ironic, a nutty little wooden bird telling a big nutty bird goodbye,” I thought.

Four, it’s the earth and humankind’s number, the number representing reality, origins, direction. 

Fanning my wings a half dozen times, I transformed fully into my namesake, Migizi, and flew south- southeast. Afternoon’s sunlight glistened on the leading edges of my beating wings and danced men’s traditional in my peripheral vision.

It seemed that each flap of my wings carried me fifty miles, and in minutes, I flew across the straights of Mackinaw. Looking down at the mocked-up fort there, I smiled at the thought of the Ojibwe still existing after so many efforts to end them.

No thoughts of Big Nob or hell ever came to mind. I was purposed, intent, and questing for something awaiting me. 

“Here, I’m here Migizi,” a boyish voice said from far away.

Looking down, I saw a native boy standing by a  train bridge and soared down to him. As I landed on the ground before him I changed back to a man.

“Hi, Migizi, we meet again,” said Jay. “Your clothes look pretty funny.”

I was still in hospital pajama bottoms, footies, and stinky v-neck tee shirt.

“Jay. Jay something or other,” I said. “You about got me killed kid, running in front of me like you did.”

“Still Water, my last name that is,” Jay said, “yah, and I also helped save you by calling for help on your phone so that makes us even on that one.”

“That one?” I asked, rubbing my forehead with my right hand. “You make it sound like we’ve shared other situations between us.”

“Yup, Migizi, and that’s why you are here, right?”

“Gosh kid, I don’t know exactly. If you only knew all the craziness I’ve been through in a week you might understand my confusion. That said, I think I’m having a very lucid dream that feels real as all get out. Anyhoo, I admit, I flew here thinking I needed to come to this place…. hey, I know this place.”

“Sure you do. You know me, too. But anyway, you aren’t dreaming. This is real, kinda.”

Jay, with a smiling smirk and twinkling eyes, contagiously produced the same expression in me.

“Okay kid, I mean, Jay Still Water, I’ve finally learned to go with this deal. You know what’s going on don’t you? So tell me, what’s next?”

“I’m your spirit guide and got stuff to show you, yah, like this bridge behind us. We used to come here and go fishin’ together. But heck, I’m getting ahead of things. Come on follow me, Migizi.”

Copyright © 2015 Migizi M. New Song. All Rights Reserved.

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