A Mother's Prayer

Father, I stand here at the edge of the world
           and call out to you softly,
           soft as the breeze on a bear cub's fur,
           hear your troubled daughter speak.
Father, my spirit is sore,
           I have lost the sacred gift of my womb.
           My child lies cradled in the arms of eternal sleep.
           I cannot be strong, I am tired,
           and the Moon no longer smiles on me.
Father, last night I had a dream,
           as I slept, Night crept in and stole my spirit,
           and I was left cold and empty,
           unable to feel the warmth of my blankets.
Father, my pony ran like the wind to come here,
           but I felt no joy in his swiftness.
           My heart is as though an arrow rests in it,
           and I am unable to dislodge its painful head.
Father, I need your strongest medicine
           to heal my wound and restore my spirit.
           As the flaming sunset fills the fading sky,
           I crave the soothing friendship of the Moon.
Father, the echo carries my message to you,
           hear your troubled daughter speak.