I was entrusted with a duty. While many stood guard at the site, a shell was used to pray. That shell was left behind, to honor the ancestors that walked this land well before us. In the haste to clean up the site after guarding, the shell was picked up and needed to be returned to the site. I hesitated to go back; I wanted to go there, to pay my respects, but I wanted to journey after the construction had begun to insure the shell would stay out of the developers' hands.

My sojourn north was filled with memories, of a night and two days spent talking to the ancestors, of prayers whispered and answered. I thought of an oak tree that shielded the Honor Guard from the noonday sun and stood with me as I watched through the night. I remember that night so well—a fog that rolled in, coyotes calling out to one another—and of walking around the chain link fence and gazing upon this tall brother. I had marveled at his wonderfully full canopy, his shape and his tall limbs as he reached high up into the nighttime sky. He formed the perfect bond, reaching deep into both mother and father. I wondered how many years he stood, watching over these graves; his memories would be better that those of the humans that were entrusted to watch over the area.

I turned down the road and saw a land stripped bare, of black top soil laid upon itself, the gray clay underlayment exposed and a sunken pit formed. Mechanical scrapers scoured the paths that I walked just a few short months before. A "no trespassing"

sign was thrust into the ground upon a metal stake, behind a low green plastic fence.

My tall brother was gone, not even his barked bones remained, hauled off like used up scrap.

I stood there. I can't say I was shocked. I and he knew his days were numbered. I was saddened. I offered my prayers, smoke rising once again from the shell. I spoke to the ancestors and felt their touch. A wind picked up, rustling through the calm air and the Creator stood with us. I carefully buried the shell, offered tobacco and took in the wounded site. Soon there will be concrete, mortar, neon signs and people going across a black sterile parking lot. Trees will be planted in a pattern designed to create a park-like setting. Who will remember that which was?

I will.

My brother now walks within me, his green limbs are now raised when I raise my arms in prayer each day. This site, the star-filled sky, the cool gray mist and the sweet smell of sage are all inside my mind and shall journey with me as I take steps down my path.

I looked once more upon the site. Two crows, my Spirit Guides, flew above me, their calls to me answered in my thoughts. One split from the other and the remaining one flew low and perched upon a mound of clay. The site was in good hands.

I once again found myself on the highway going back home. In my heart I again saw my brother standing tall upon the land, behind him a ruby-colored sunset. I smiled and said good night.

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