After our meditation, we practiced Yenati,
named for the mountain peak symbolizing
unity and partnership.

After walking off the ledge, Sage and I were
held by Americo, the good father of sisters
we were, letting us touch the jutting out of

The Southern Cross— the equidistant cross
and the puma. Feeling Americo’s courage,
guarding these mountains let me hope

We might have some. At that point, Americo
led us to the Temple of Pachamama, a place
almost never visited by tourists—

Very short and petite. The sun had gone down—
on the way, able to sit and observe tranquilly—
the violet light of Apu Veronica— a vertical

Cleft— two mountains met. Pachamama’s
temple walls, doorways very short, small—
was tended by a pygmy woman shaman.

We see a fountain with two streams.
Americo invites us to take water from
the left and the right to feel

Our life’s work. I felt imbalance but
also harmony. The left side was loved
—no longer struggling for expression

Free to be itself. We saw the stars
beginning to come out standing
against Pachamama’s wall.

My spine and back settled in as I
bent my knees realizing what the
early image of Pachamama at

The mountain without legs meant.
It begins at the first and second—
exit and entrance as in Yeats’

Crazy Jane poem. The harmony
was of contraction and expansion.
We passed through a very short

Door into a roofless house with several
rooms. Americo invited each of us to
come in there—separately to meditate.

Seeing the mountain with a face of an
Incan man, I looked up at the stars.
Sitting down, I began to cry, tears

Streaming hot salt down
my face and sobs heaving through
my chest in great waves. I felt

In my body— this verbalization—
Ah— eek again and again. Rocking
wildly, occurring I was in the place

Of my ancestors. Uninterrupted
lineage was what I had longed for. To
be with these women shaman was

To be with my Irish, Norwegian,
Scottish foremothers. Knowing
ancestral curses of worry would

Be lifted and free. Ancestors
of the Coming Tribes would
provide a different setting for

The children tears of joy. Americo
rustled us out of there as fast
as he could. It was dark,

The stars utterly amazing, yet we had
to attend Pachamama so we would
not lose our footing.

After dancing with beggars, making
our way to the van, where Americo
explained we had frightened him.

Freyja began to disincarnate—
her arm was gone. He saw an
Incan shaman right next to me—

All of us were emanating light.