Seven years since I have seen your face, Grandmother, Mother of my spirit.
I say your name three times and call your spirit back to me, but I know that the revolutions of the earth have taken you to the place where you cannot hear my earth voice. Like the rattle of dry leaves my own voice comes back to me - and reminds me that I must try to remember what you taught me. It is so easy to forget the wisdom and to fall upon the river of tears that bears this life to its end. Easier to stop on the banks and remember a way that you taught.