Leslie Silko - Ceremony

“We’ll have the second night here,” Betonie said, indicating a stone hogan set back from the edge of the rimrock.

Tayo stood near the horses, looking down the path over the way they had come. The plateaus and canyons spread out below him like clouds falling into each other past the horizon. The world below was distant and small; it was dwarfed by a sky so blue and vast the clouds were lost in it. Far into the south there were smoky blue ridges of the mountain haze at Zuni. He smoothed his hand over the top of his head and felt the sun. The mountain wind was cool; it smelled like springs hidden deep in mossy black stone. He could see no signs of what had been set loose upon the earth: the highways, the towns, even the fences were gone. This was the highest point on the earth: he could feel it. It had nothing to do with measurements or height. It was a special place. He was smiling. He felt strong. He had to touch his own hand to remember what year it was: thick welted scars from the shattered bottle glass.

His mother-in-law suspected something.

She smelled coyote piss one morning.

She told her daughter.

She figured Coyote was doing this.

She knew her son-in-law was missing.

There was no telling what Coyote had done to him.

Four of them went to track the man.

They tracked him to the place he found deer tracks.

They found the place the deer was arrow-wounded

where the man started chasing it.

Then they found the place where Coyote got him.

Sure enough those coyote tracks went right along there

Right around the marks in the sand where the man lay.

The human tracks went off toward the mountain where the man must have crawled. They followed the tracks to a hard oak tree where he had spent a night. From there he had crawled some distance farther and slept under a scrub oak tree. Then his tracks went to a piñon tree and then under the juniper where he slept another night. The tracks went on and on but finally they caught up with him sleeping under the wild rose bush. “What happened? Are you the one who left four days ago, my grandchild?” A coyote whine was the only sound he made. “Four days ago you left, are you that one, my grandchild?” The man tried to speak but only a coyote sound was heard, and the tail moved back and forth sweeping ridges in the sand. He was suffering from thirst and hunger he was almost too weak to raise his head. But he nodded his head “yes.”

“This is him all right, but what can we do to save him?”

They ran to the holy places they asked what might be done.

“At the summit of Dark Mountain ask the four old Bear People. They are the only possible hope they have the power to restore the mind. Time and again it has been done.”

Big Fly went to tell them. The old Bear People said they would come They said Prepare hard oak scrub oak piñon juniper and wild rose twigs Make hoops tie bundles of weeds into hoops. Make four bundles tie them with yucca spruce mixed with charcoal from burned weeds snakeweed and gramma grass and rock sage. Make four bundles.

The rainbows were crossed. They had been his former means of travel. Their purpose was to restore this to him.

They made Pollen Boy right in the center of the white corn painting. His eyes were blue pollen his mouth was blue pollen his neck was too There were pinches of blue pollen at his joints.

He sat in the center of the white corn sand painting. The rainbows crossed were in the painting behind him. Betonie’s helper scraped the sand away and buried the bottoms of the hoops in little trenches so that they were standing up and spaced apart, with the hard oak closest to him and the wild rose hoop in front of the door. The old man painted a dark mountain range beside the farthest hoop, the next, closer, he painted blue, and moving toward him, he knelt and made the yellow mountains; and in front of him, Betonie painted the white mountain range.

The helper worked in the shadows beyond the dark mountain range; he worked with the black sand, making bear prints side by side. Along the right side of the bear footprints, the old man painted paw prints in blue, and then yellow, and finally white. They finished it together, with a big rainbow arching wide above all the mountain ranges. Betonie gave him a basket with prayer sticks to hold.

en-e-e-ya-a-a-a-a! en-e-e-ya-a-a-a-a! en-e-e-ya-a-a-a-a! en-e-e-ya-a-a-a-a!

In dangerous places you traveled in danger you traveled to a dangerous place you traveled in danger e-hey-ya-ah-na!

To the place where whirling darkness started its journey along the edges of the rocks along the places of the gentle wind along the edges of blue clouds along the edges of clear water.

Whirling darkness came up from the North

Whirling darkness moved along to the East

It came along the South

It arrived in the West

Whirling darkness spiraled downward

and it came up in the Middle.

The helper stepped out from the shadows; he was grunting like a bear. He raised his head as if it were heavy for him, and he sniffed the air. He stood up and walked to Tayo; he reached down for the prayer sticks and spoke the words distinctly, pressing the sticks close to his heart. The old man came forward then and cut Tayo across the top of his head; it happened suddenly. He hadn’t expected it, but the dark flint was sharp and the cut was short. They both reached for him then; lifting him up by the shoulders, they guided his feet into the bear footprints, and Betonie prayed him through each of the five hoops.

eh-hey-yah-ah-na! eh-hey-yah-ah-na! eh-hey-yah-ah-na! eh-hey-yah-ah-na! eh-hey-yah-ah-na!

Tayo could feel the blood ooze along his scalp; he could feel rivulets in his hair. It moved down his head slowly, onto his face and neck as he stooped through each hoop.

e-hey-yah-ah-na! e-hey-yah-ah-na! e-hey-yah-ah-na! e-hey-yah-ah-na!

At the Dark Mountain

born from the mountain

walked along the mountain

I will bring you through my hoop,

I will bring you back.

Following my footprints

walk home

following my footprints

Come home, happily

return belonging to your home

return to long life and happiness again

return to long life and happiness.

e-hey-yah-ah-na! e-hey-yah-ah-na! e-hey-yah-ah-na! e-hey-yah-ah-na!

At the Dark Mountain

born from the mountain

moves his hand along the mountain

I have left the zigzag lightning behind

I have left the straight lightning behind

I have the dew,

a sunray falls from me,

I was born from the mountain

I leave a path of wildflowers

A raindrop falls from me

I’m walking home

I’m walking back to belonging

I’m walking home to happiness

I’m walking back to long life.

When he passed through the last hoop

it wasn’t finished

They spun him around sunwise

and he recovered

he stood up

The rainbows returned him to his

home, but it wasn’t over.

All kinds of evil were still on him.

From the last hoop they led him through the doorway. It was dark and the sky was bright with stars. The chill touched the blood on his head; his arms and legs were shaking. The helper brought him a blanket; they walked him to the edge of the rimrock, and the medicine man told him to sit down. Behind him he heard the sound of wood and brush being broken into kindling. He smelled a fire. They gave him Indian tea to drink and old Betonie told him to sleep.

He dreamed about the speckled cattle. They had seen him and they were scattering between juniper trees, through tall yellow grass, below the mesas near the dripping spring. Some of them had spotted calves who ran behind them, their bony rumps flashing white and disappearing into the trees. He tried to run after them, but it was no use without a horse. They were gone, running southwest again, toward the high, lone-standing mesa the people called Pa’to’ch.