The Women of Winnemucca

The Women of Winnemucca
Can not be called any less
For their hardworking demeanor
Thick skin makes them leaner
And their hands
Are made of wood knots.

If you'd ever met
A Woman of Winnemucca
You'd know it right away.
Straight to the point
An obsidian tip
Right on target; hell bent.

Because they know
The struggles of life
And no longer cry
For they know what it takes
To bend and to pry

And their children may hate them
May curse them or praise them
But they raised them up- irregardless
They know that in the dessert
You either live or you die
You either grow up or you cry
And for that you always live
As a child.

But if you learn from their lessons
These Basque looking angels
Or Paiute Sages of the Desert
Will show you a way
That is filled with love and with praise
And the rain will wash away
All the sand and the dirt
And let blossom
The most beautiful flower.