By Kentaro Herder

I just talked to my mom on the phone and I asked her about the one gray cow on the rug my grandma wove and why the others are red.

She just laughed and said it’s beautiful and interesting to wonder what her silly mind thought of.

Now I’m sitting here trying to interpret the love my grandma had as she took the strands of earth toned wool to bring a herd of cows, golden monuments, and a couple of hogans to life.

Using her rough yet gentle hands my grandma brewed coffee and created culture with warp and weft.

And like my grandma, I use pen and paper to weave, and hopefully let my culture breathe.

I brew and sip my tea with a silly mind full of dreams woven by her art.

I only hope my creations are as beautiful as her heart.

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