A Hopi woman sits daily on a hand woven blanket atop a rock in the desert at sunset, gazing deep
into the umber parade of colors arcing over the horizon. Some ask her why she sits and stares. She
says, “I turn to the sky to remember that I am forever provided for. A voice there reassures me with
In a house of stone, I gather you rich moss to soften your resting place. In a house of wood, I gather you oils to smooth the grain. In a house of yearning, I gather you rain. In a house of smoke, I gather you fresh air to feed your breath. In a house of rising sun, I gather you shade trees to comfort your skin. In a house of dusk, I gather you candlelight to make clear your way. In a house of willows, I gather you water for your enduring thirst. In a house of wind, I gather you song to beautify the breeze. In a house of silence, I gather you Spirit, that you will know you are never alone. In a house of Love, I build your throne.
Copyright © 2007 Jaiya John
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