Clear Lake

My Grandmother is now a bed of scattered stones,

My Grandfather, the cold, cutting breeze across my cheek,

My Mother, the forgiving lotus,

My Sister, the twinkling stars,

My Father, the familiar stranger,

& She teaches me to trust,

& He teaches me to love,

& I am

a cobalt feather,

riding the breeze of my ancestors,

all the way home.

 

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(Image credit:Β indian-feathers.seebyseeing.net )

 

 

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