I’m walking down a dusty path. I can imagine it’s hot, but can’t feel it. I sense it is an earlier time. The silence of the earth is deafening. It has a lack of activity in the air. I see you in the distance with the others. We all stop, but I sense you feel I am threat. You don’t recognize me in this body. I approach and notice I have a long bustled skirt. Is this the 1800’s? You are on a horse, but you get off yours.
I sense death is near for me if he doesn’t really see me. I walk toward you with purpose. I feel I haven’t seen you in a longtime. Your indigenous culture does not trust me and especially since I am a woman. We get closer and you have a weapon in your hand. I am unwavering in my expression. I am determined that you know me. You are also making long strides to reach me, but when you get close enough to meet my eyes you falter. I say to you, can you see me? Your expression goes back to devilish since I spoke English to you. But, I reach you and put my hand on your heart. You see something in me.
Shouting starts and shots are fired. Your friends are fighting with my people. I grab your hand and we run into the trees. I’m not scared. In my mind, I ask you to close your eyes. You do it. I ask if you remember me. You nod. I tell you our time together is short but I needed to see you in this time. You nod again. You open your eyes and we look at each other. Soul recognizing soul.