poem

There is nothing to differentiate the time that passes here.
Days run together Ever long. An Illusion.
Only told by the gradual graying of her Hair
With slow arching of a vertebrae growing closer to the ground

She still dances in the Northern Lights
Casts of Blue and Purple Trickling over her skin.
Portraying lost ancestors: Bear, and Eagle.

She binds her Ancient Remedies,
Mixtures to soothe and heal.
Swimming together in deep greens and yellows
Transforming into the color of her Eyes

She stands under Lonely Mountain
Cracked Calloused hands Reach Up
They Offer herself to the Gods.
A final Acceptance Knowing all that she has loved-
Diminished