THE WOMEN OF THE SILVER FEATHER:

 My Mamma passed away, whilst giving to me birth,

The elders took her body & returned her back to earth,

I grew up in the hands of my Grandmother old & wise,

She taught me how to see life through Angel´s gentle eyes.

As a child I played in red dust & pretty freedom´s prairies,

Grandma showed me secrets of elves & nut-skinned fairies,

As good wife I loved so deeply & as a mother, I fairly thrived,

Until that grey day came, when my dearest grandma died.

On her deathbed, grandma took my hand in hers & softly said,

My child, I bestow upon you, this silver feather from my head,

All the women folk of our tribe, of raven hair & born in heather,

Upon their foreheads bear, forelock of sacred silver feather.

Grandmother was duly taken, to far off mountain-top that night,

Awakening on the dawn, upon my head, the plume of silver white,

Sign, of women from our clan, of maid, mother & wise old crone,

I knew then that my grandmother, had at last arrived back home.