This is a poem about my first sweatlodge experience
We sit with thick-skins in clothes that we slip off.
Slowly, we move on our knees and hands as we crawl into a darkness -
an experience like what it is to become child again and to return
to the earthly, moist, rounded, sighing womb.
With humbleness we fumble our legs now neatly folded
all around the
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