The Path to You

I walk with my dark voice beside me.
I walk in the beautiful path
of my celestial name.
I walk in the deeps, beloved,
in the deeps of your dark eyes.

I sing the "ah" of morning.
I sing the clouds hovering
at street's end.
I sing hidden things, beloved,
hidden in the secret caverns of your hair.

The clouds drape my shoulders
like a thin grey blanket.
Tender grass rolls out to guide
my beautiful path.
You are my blanket, beloved,
you are my heart's blanket.

With my own shoes I walk.
I walk this beautiful path
with only my steps to guide me.
I am walking home to you, beloved,
I travel this path back to you.

---

According to Lakota tradion, one must have four things to be an "Indian": a name, a song, a robe/blanket, and moccasins (cf Goodhouse D, "A Long Time Ago, the White Buffalo Calf Woman - A Sacred Messenger - Came", First Peoples Theology Journal January 2005, 1, 3: 2-8)