Ripples Through Time
I sit in my canoe Thinking of you My Mentor My teacher A man drifting in calm Waters of the present Looking across the ripples Of the past. You taught me the blessings Of Smoke Steaming Cedar branches And Sweat You taught me how to return To our Mother Hold her sacred Center and Still Oneself as the Ghosts of the Buffalo Silently graze on by As shimmering ancestors Follow Singing their stories To you Creating a new narrative That will ripple Out into the Future– For nothing created Is ever truly destroyed.