The Spirit Lives Forever

By the Banshee

The Grand Canyon was just as the man had remembered. The brown and orange cliffs were as jagged as a saw blade. The purified air, untouched by pollution and waste, filled his lungs. The sensations made him feel like a child again. Those were the days he loved to remember and relive in his dreams. So many memories were engulfed in this gigantic wonder of the world. He heard the cry of a coyote in the distance. The sound made him think of the story his grandfather once told him. He told him how he used to run with the coyotes during a full moon.

“Aruck,” he would say, “It was one time man and beast bonded as one. There was peace between two mammals for that brief period of time.”

Aruck smiled at the memory of that story. He steered his pony down the coiling trails of the canyon. When he reached the bottom he proceeded to find a flat piece of earth. He swung his right leg over and dismounted. He flipped over the saddle bag and removed a small, clay pot. He then walked a steady line to his destination , the edge of the trail reaching into the canyon. Aruck turned the piece of pottery around in his hands. His grandfather’s ashes were concealed inside. Aruck knelt down on the ground and outstretched his arms toward the wind. He removed the top of the pot and tipped it over. The ashes scattered into the current of air and slowly began their descent toward the canyon floor.

The sun had just finished setting. Aruck stood up and brushed the dirt off his pants. He looked around the inside of the canyon. He felt like he was in another world. It was like a miniature world condensed into a mammoth gorge. Spiring buttes and mesas stretched up towards the velvety pink and purple tones of the setting sky. Gray-blue and brown limestone and bright angel shale added a rainbow of colors all jaggedly chiseled on the canyon walls. The hills were formed of volcanic debris from eras past. An array of desert plants such as Spanish bayonet decorated the floor. (He thought, “This is what paradise should be like.”) The canyon looked so innocent, yet it was filled with dark secrets. Aruck’s grandfather had once given his own explanation as to how the canyon came to be.

He said, “The gods came down from the heavens and saved our ancestors from the violence of their enemies. They made this giant crater for the Indians, so they could escape to freedom and safety.”

Aruck mounted his pony. He squeezed the sides of the pinto forcing him to tackle the rocky, serpentine trails. Aruck cautiously urged the pony up the incline. The pony went on without hesitation. When they reached the top, Aruck brought the animal to a halt. The man spoke down into the canyon.

“Grandfather, I leave you in your final resting place. The place you roamed as a child and stalked as a man. I shall not say good-bye for I know our spirits shall reunite as one again. I leave you in peace now.”

Aruck pursed his lips and gave a loud whistle. It was followed by a cawing sound. A cocoa-colored hawk circled overhead. Aruck extended his arm as the powerful bird descended and landed upon it. He stroked the bird’s feathers while talking to it in his native language.

The full moon shone brightly. The hawk took flight again. Aruck shortened his reins and kicked the sides of the refined animal sending him into a gallop. He knew this was how his ancestors experienced life. He was proud of his heritage, but now he was one of the last of his tribe. He knew he would carry on his lineage, because he wanted to share with others the stories his grandfather had shared with him in the midst of the canyon.

Aruck heard the wailing sound of coyotes in the distance. He looked to his left towards the moon. He could see the dark outline of a man and a pack of coyotes running gracefully through the night. His grandfather’s words replayed in his head. “It was the one time that man and beast bonded as one. There was peace between the two mammals for that brief period of time.”

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