Hot sky melting, strata layers of pink hues,
Our tracker is resting, exhausted by clues.
Cacti stand grounded, guardians of tombs,
Where women sang surrounded, clutching their wombs.
Pilgrimage to spirit, to breathe in the sky,
To dance on the mountain, moon smiling high.
Dust on our knees as we lower and bow,
Lapping essence from the cup, of this powerful now.
Singing together, we mesh hearts in our fingers,
Wild souls reunited, the sensation lingers.
Navajo princess, Utah unknown,
Waiting until desert winds have blown.
The moment is right, as you bury their bones,
Marking the grave with feathers and stones.
Prayers to Earth Grasper, songs to Great Mystery,
Peace is restored, a pilgrims shared history.
Connection to Earth is grounding indeed,
Choosing which wolf to metaphorically feed.