The Fire Still Burns

They say the land remembers. Maybe that’s why I kept coming back, to the red dirt riverbeds, to the trails where cedar smoke used to hang like breath in winter. I didn’t grow up with a map of who we…

They say the land remembers. Maybe that’s why I kept coming back, to the red dirt riverbeds, to the trails where cedar smoke used to hang like breath in winter. I didn’t grow up with a map of who we…