The Snow ... Came In

Then They Grow Away From The Earth Then They Grow Away From The Sun Then They Grow Away From The Plants And The Animals. They See No Life. When They Look They See Only Objects. The World Is A Dead Thing For Them The Trees And The Rivers Are Not Alive. The Mountains And Stones Are Not Alive. The Deer And Bear Are Objects. They See No Life. They Fear. They Fear The World. They Destroy What They Fear. They Fear Themselves.

Night. Heavenly Delicious Sweet Night Of The Desert That Calls All Of Us To Love Her. The Night Is Our Comfort With Her Coolness And Darkness. On Wings, On Feet, On Our Bellies, Out We All Come To Glory In The Night.

Distances And Days Existed In Themselves Then; They All Had A Story. They Were Not Barriers. If A Person Wanted To Get To The Moon, There Is A Way; It All Depended On Whether You Knew The Directions, On Whether You Knew The Story Of How Others Before You Had Gone. He Had Believed In The Stories For A Long Time, Until The Teachers At Indian School Taught Him Not To Believe In That Kind Of "nonsense". But They Had Been Wrong.

Writing Cant Change The World Overnight, But Writing May Have An Enormous Effect Over Time, Over The Long Haul.

When Someone Dies, You Don't Get Over It By Forgetting; You Get Over It By Remembering, And You Are Aware That No Person Is Ever Truly Lost Or Gone Once They Have Been In Our Life And Loved Us, As We Have Loved Them.