I've written about desert towns before;
visions of sand paintings every morning
on the bedroom floor,
The Blessing Way healing our every
ailment - me, you and the priest with clean hair.
Even the greatest heart ache bears
no weapon.
The dry air bringing pollens from
far away-
feathers in my braid,
distantly, we live.
When the sun sets, with
eagle's wisdom, the song sticks to my skin:
I sing
"In the house of happiness, there I wander
beauty before me,
beauty behind me, below me, above me,
with it I wander.
I am on the beautiful trail,
with it
I wander."
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