Before returning home, Frank and I visited Jemez and San Antonio Hot Springs. Before bathing, he prays, "For the person I am now and the person I will become." Water hemlock, spikenard, and sister ivy twist around our ankles on our walk up. The trail, covered with steam and an aura of sulphur, tells us the earth is breathing here.
We put our whole bodies into the cave. I "Om" three times and put my feet deeper into the source, into an unknown, dark, clammy crack in the rock where hot water gushes. Minerals bubble up through this opening from deep within.
Hours later, we drive the rough terrain to San Antonio Hot Springs. We pass beneath "The Father Stone" and Frank says, "Spend three days here eating wild plants and they will talk to you..."
Red pillars, of gray and blue,
You are a silent gathering of wind.
a stone tribe of ancestors,
our desert elders blessed by sage brush.
You are bird stones, a council of fathers,
holding spear, facing outwards,
touching cloud, you are sky stones,
a herd of goat's beard silent at your foot.
You are distant, beyond,
holding intention, source speaks to you.
You are the witness above the fertile waters,
above the womb, hot waters gushing out of earth.
Nestled in the mountain,:
fire and earth; mars visits you.
Thunder says "Leave!"
We turn to go, "Father, please don't be angry.
There's osha in the veins of aspen,
and mother is here, offering gooseberries ."
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