THUNDERBIRD

 My first memory is of sitting around a campfire & the story teller speaking of the Thunderbird. A flash of lightning stirs the wind &  the cleansing rain rains down. Sioux warriors, the men of mystery, paint Thunderbirds on their ghost shirts & dance the ghost dance. Fearless. Bullets perforate the flesh but never kill the spirit.  Thunderbird protects us from the dark spirits of the underworld & the random happenstance of the everyday. Thunderbird reminds us to be fearless in the face of certain death like my Rabbi Yeshuah who went back to Jerusalem into the teeth of danger with an easy soul. “Today is a good day to die... oh my children.” Thunderbird rises like the Phoenix from the flames. Ferocious. Fearless. Free.