Spirit of the wind carry me...
Spirit of the wind carry me home...
Spirit of the wind carry me home to myself
Ubaka Hill, "Nightflight," Shapeshifters
The amazing Ubaka Hill leads the Drumsong Orchestra at the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival.
The womyn are silent in the predawn on the dark country road. If you're an early riser, though, like me, just when the world is cracking from black to silver, when the trees are still silhouettes against a barely lighter sky and the cars hulk like sleeping dragons, you can shuffle down the long, long hill. There's a clearing, a bit of space to stand in, sand and brown grass, and all of a sudden over there the mist rises in a vast open field. Green trees, green grass, striped tents, and silence. A sleeping city, out of time. You can stand there and watch the first glints of sunshine, you can watch the sky stretch itself open, and you can walk right to the gates, the only woman in the world, and touch the letters, those letters lovingly painted with dancing womyn and drums. If you're like me, you touch those letters in the predawn stillness when the world feels ancient and kind. If you're like me, you cry.
