I saw red the first day womanhood ever spoke from my virgin womb. I saw red seeping through the wounds on my chest that made me love myself again. Red were the eyes of life that gazed at me as I breathed my prayers into a bundle of white sage. Red was the moon to which the wolf howled, asking to be born again. I saw red when a gust of wind lifted the fire's flame to kiss my face. I saw red before I ever loved a man. Red is the Road I walk to stay close to my Creator. I saw red in the glow of the whispering Grandfather stones. Red was the life in which I birthed when I decided fear was no longer going to be a part of my nature. I saw red dance with the spirit of the Hawk on the days I spent alone with Creator. I see red every month now, red the color of letting go, deep red, crimson red. Red that is strong and wise, red that is in every woman. I saw red pulling heads off of roses, only to reveal how they bleed all the way to the center. I saw red painted on my body the night I danced to meet the Mother Earth. I saw red carrying prayers across the ocean. I saw red in the horizon, in the space between worlds. I saw red in times of both love and pain, and I will see red for the rest of my days. I will bleed red, and know that in just one single drop, I am all of life, and all of death the same. When you are a poet, red becomes so much more than a color. I found out today a close friend of mine passed last night, unexpectedly. My love goes out to you Gerri, you're forever in my heart. It is hard right now, but I know I'm going to be okay because I heard you all day today. I know you're with me, still. Aho mitakuye oyasin, I am grateful for my life.