AMERICAN INDIAN AUTHORS

To pray you open your whole self

To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon

To one whole voice that is you. 

And know there is more 

That you can't see, can't hear

Can't know except in moments

Steadily growing, and in languages

That aren't always sound but other

Circles of motion.

Like eagle that Sunday morning 

Over Salt River. Circled in blue sky

In wind, swept our hearts clean 

With sacred wings. 

We see you, see ourselves and know 

That we must take the utmost care 

And kindness in all things. 

Breathe in, knowing we are made of 

All this, and breathe, knowing

We are truly blessed because we 

Were born, and die soon, within a

True circle of motion, 

Like eagle rounding out the morning

Inside us. 

We pray that it will be done

In beauty. 

In beauty.