The Indian raised his brow to the sky;
the blistering heat, the cloudless skies
holding memories of long journeys past.
Taking many moons to reach lands that
today the speed of light could take us to.
Embracing nature for what it is;
assimilating to each new creature’s world
as they do for us.
Learning how to listen instead of
just speak. Smoke signals ablaze
tonight. Misting swirls of gorgeous
messages, warning of danger afoot,
kissing the sky and making our faces
translucent in its travels.
Heartbeats parallel with drums that
play the anthems of our pride.
These things that define the American West
also remind me of your wisdom
and where we’ve been.
I’ll send out a final call, even though my
last one didn’t reach you before the
departure of your beautiful spirit.
May what I have to say reach you; for I know
that you reside in all the
splendor I see.

I miss you.