My Mother's Mother

The poem below is by my eternally young and beautiful sister, Heidi, who took her own life about seven years ago this time of year. We miss her deep wisdom, creativity, intelligence and love. We will see her and hold her in our arms again, that we know. I took a little editorial license, so it is not exactly as she wrote it. Thanks much to Shahara Crist, Heidi's best friend and soul sister for publishing this on her blog and making my day meaningful in all the maddness.

My Mother's Mother

My mother was made from warm red sand
And cool water from the San Juan
Her bright eyes were part of the clear desert sky.
Her heart's like the desert's hot sun.

She was nurtured in Bluff's deep canyons
With water from crystal clear artesian springs.
Soft sand and red rock were her playground.
Wild wind and sweet sagebrush her friends.

She grew in mystery and beauty and grace
With cliff flowers twined in her hair
Until another of desert's loved children
Was given my mother to wed.

Twenty springs have now passed;
Winds have shifted the sands.
Desert mourns the loss of her daughter.
Far to the north a woman waits,
She dwells in the mountain's dark shadow.

But red sand still runs through her veins
And the desert primroses calls her home.
The Desert is my mother's mother.