A Seneca wind blew
Through the tops of the tallest pine
I thought it was dream
The meaning was elusive as this native wind
It stirred in me some deep
And ancient memory
My feet were getting way ahead of me
Anxious as they were to follow
And my heart too
Leapt on ahead of hesitation
My earthly self was nervous to let go
To breathe the life of one
I used to be
To know
I filled my lungs with recklessness
As I was wanting answers
And let the wind control
It carried me on reminiscent wave
It brought me up to Eagle skies
To heights I’d never dare
It showed me worlds
I used to wander
The tears came swiftly then
Ancestral rivers overflowed
And rapids rushed with clarity
And the Seneca sun shone full
Through the tops of the tallest pine
And the Eagle cried
Welcome home




Sara Mathews     November 2016