To a Wanderer at Rest Where canyon meets sky empty vessel begging for rain Where sky is only burning sun scorched of impurity I have waited one thousand moons I can wait one thousand more Where dirt is sand Where plant is thorn Where river is myth there, if you seek, you will find me I hide plainly in the wide open You who were pushed into existence on the prairie, the womb of the world You who paddled your canoe on the creek, the blood of the world You who hibernated alone on the mountain, the face of the world You have wandered long across my sturdy body You have forsaken much to reach this secretive desert Now your movement is unnecessary I bid you walk softly your answers are here for you tread on the soul of the world. -1997 Cassandra Wensel