At the bottom of the canyon,
Where flows the river Salt,
On the rocks, by the water,
Where drums, time, did halt.
Stood the Tsa la gi maiden,
In water up to her hips,
Drawing strength from it’s coldness,
Touching it’s spirit with her lips.
He had not intended to see her,
But, he could not look away,
He watched her drying on the stone,
Tilting her head back to pray.
How one she was, with the earth,
Absorbing it’s ultimate power,
Hearing the rhythm of the drums,
Feeling them, hour, after hour.
At last, she turned to look at him,
And into his gaze did smile,
He knew that she belonged to him,
If only for a little while.
I cannot tell the story,
Of why she went away,
It was something beyond her control,
Until this very day.
When once again their paths did cross,
For their dreams had been other lives,
Their hearts dancing in the Center,
Where real love always survives.
So, once more they stand together,
The sound of water, time does halt,
Speaking the names that make them live again,
While hearing the drums along the Salt...
Copyright © Debra Coppinger Hill | Year Posted 2005
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