What happened to the sacrements of the day,
To live and walk in a sacred way?
Offerings of corn meal and pollen,
buffalo hides and skulls,
deer meat and water.

From mountain tops,
my prayers still rise.

Prayers for familt and friends,
for health and healing.
The healing of myself and our Mother Earth.
Yes, my prayers still rise,
in smoke they rise.

The hawk hears them,
takes them from there.

Below me, acres of clear cut,
below that, further down, deeper,
the cracking open of seeds,
sprouts rising up
towards the sun.
This is the healing,
it has begun.