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.

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