She was bed ridden;
it was Grandma’s last day on camp—
drank all the hot cocoa.
I buried Grandma in her ancient, traditional Sicangu way. Up, on the his test point. Visible for miles. Cleared of trees. The people, the huts, the children, where in a bad way. I sacrificed my hair and didn’t eat for a week after. They did the same. This is my home.