For my teachers whose names are lost She is your mother. She loved you. She is the one who taught you all you needed to know. She taught you to listen to the winds, the birds, the trees. She taught you to see beyond the stars and down the halls of time. She taught you how wind howls. She taught you how to call down the wolves. She taught you plant powers and wisdom. She taught you the power of your voice in valley echoes and in words thrown across rooms. Now, you journey alone through time and space. You try to meet her again, summon her, conjure her presence, touch her once more. You wish for the golden robe she gave you and the purple mist she blew round you. You find voices and spirits, presences. But not her. She remains the mystery, beyond your reach. You feel the animals she sent you and the words she gave you. But they are mere wisps of what they were. Wolf and forest man grab your throat. They want you to speak. And she?