the kiowa elder sings of the
wichita mountains
these old and ancient mountains
still stand, but not so tall;
water and wind have worn them down;
the prairies watch them fall.

the prairies watch and whisper
at the summits slow descent;
in the thunderstorm I have heard
their bittersweet lament:

       fire and rain - they purify;
       the smell is strong and sweet,
       but the price to pay is high;
       and the soul is weak.

these mountains love this message,
sung low against the earth,
though once they would not listen
in the young years of their birth;

but now the aged mountains
take up the prairie's hymn
and sing it to the valleys
where it echoes in the wind:

       fire and rain - they purify;
       the smell is strong and sweet,
       but the price to pay is high;
       and the soul is weak.

I too have faced the fierce winds
and tasted rain and fire,
and I have watched my prayers ascend
toward heaven ever higher.

soon I will seek my rest there,
after standing firm and long,
through the many storms on earth that
from a faint soul forge a strong.