I was born a child 

Full of fire 

Upon the HiLine Plains

I burnt across them

Full of wild desire

To learn 

Quiet rhythms

Quiet secrets

Quiet loneliness 

Shown to few 

With patience

 

I grew on the back

Of a tall bay horse

Jasper made me

Feel free

Feel flight

Feel pain 

As I wept 

His head in my lap 

The light in his eyes

Leaving their familiar

Place

 

I lived on the reservation 

They are not easy to course

Full of humor 

Full of tradition

Full of pain 

It toughened

It tanned

My hide

 

These things made 

Me who I am 

Knowing 

Life is raw

Life is real

Life is not 

A promise

 

The stories 

The people

The place

Have made me 

Puruse 

A life to illustrate them

To record them

To share them with the world

 

But I feel

I have lost myself 

I straddle two worlds

Am I an artist?

Am I a cowgirl?
Am I able

To reconcile

These two parts

Of a whole?