Sadness has found its dwelling in me. Mourning the loss of a beloved friend. This time its deeper and much more intense. Hard work for my body to digest it.
Ear wants to speak and show a way to help.
“You are so fortunate to live on your own land. Go and find a place where you can bury your burden, where you can bury your burden into the ground, into the earth. She can help you digesting it for her body is much bigger than yours.”
So I step outside. Fresh wintery air is what I meet. I wrap my blanket around my shoulders and relax in the warmth of its embrace.
I walk towards the place I’ve chosen and start digging with my hands. Digging in the ground, deeper and deeper. Digging in the earth even more deeper. When the grave is ready I lay my offering inside of it and set myself at the edge of it. The voice of my drum is soft and low. I add my voice low and soft, soft and low until it has blended into the sound of silence. I sit still and wait and listen.
Women appear from beyond the grave. The first is my mother. Then my grandmothers and with them more and more women of my lineage. They all gather around the grave, we all gather around the open grave and start singing our songs of death, singing the losses of our lives. Each woman has her own story, her own Song of Death for all the children she has lost, for all the loved ones she had to let go. I know the sorrow and sadness of my mom. Her first born died the sudden death when she was only 20 days old. My mother was not allowed to bring her to her grave, to lay her down in her last resting place. I listen to the songs and grieve with them all. After a while there’s silence again. They are all gone except my mother. She has an important message for me and she doesn’t leave not until she knows that I really got it.
In the peacefulness of that moment I close the grave softly singing a last farewell. Then I turn around and walk back to the house.