Horses Of The Wind

In Isleta the rainbow was a crack in the universe. We saw the barest of all life that is possible. Bright horses rolled over and over the dusking sky. Joy Harjo

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The mountain through its beauty and its fury shows neither kindness nor fairness but reveals both the blissfulness and ephemerality of our existence. Thick, rich clouds wrapped around the cliff tops part for a second offering the most stunning of visual spectacles. All my senses are alert, tingling with glee, pain and strife forgotten. And, as quickly as the feeling comes, it is gone. The freezing rain seeps into my bones, body and mind numbing. Soup, blankets, stove, loving, devoted care, bring me back. But, one of us was not so lucky. The mountain took Teresa Farriol, too young, too soon. So, I ask you, when the wind blows, think of her, think of those you love. If they are there with you, tell them that you love them, if they are not, say a prayer for them. Laugh often, cry when you need to and cherish the small things, the seemingly unimportant moments between joy and sadness.