The first peoplemade this spirit path when the trees were young and the ground was soft.
Remembering the old ways we walk with humble steps. Every breath a promise to do no harm and leave no trace.
Beneath the cottonwood, the dead lie sleeping. silent witnesses, to our pilgrimage of honor,
We offer water to the four directions. Our prayer flags rise as we say these words.
Honor to the land. Honor to this place. Honor to our ancestors. They prepared our way.