Morningstar

Mother going home

It lay across her casket, this pendleton blanket with a picture of a brave warrior astride a swift steed thundering across the plains.  On her little feet, soft white doeskin moccasins with rabbit fur caressing her ankles.

She is gone now, my mother, my mentor, my friend and teacher, to the place where our ancestors wait in joyous celebration of her homecoming.

As I drove away with a prairie moon in full amber bloom, I could still hear her last little sigh as she let go of a body aged and a mind that left her years ago.

She is the wind now in the trees.

Thank you Great Father,
for this woman who was my mother.
thank you for love,
for it is in the beginning
and all there is in the end.

all my relations

morningstar woman