Sweat Lodge These women, some women Woodland witches, shaman, grandmothers, sisters Their songs pull and reveal Their prayers lift and heal I reach deep within with a strong hand And pull forth all that I am Laying it carefully in front of the hot rocks Glowing embers, smoking medicine, billowing steam I am raw, fully formed There is no hiding in this perfect Pitch black womb, tomb Every door, I roll out with the steam Lie on the cold earth, panting, praying Watching the vapo