She's living in the canyon, amidst the kiva stone.

Spirits watching wondering, who has let their home.

She sits there in the morning , gazing at the sun.

Chaco’s woman's home again, never more to run.

Gentle fingers probe the stone looking for a trace,

of the people come and gone, searching for their race.

Chaco’s woman calls to them, the spirits hear her thoughts.

Through her eyes they see the changes, tears of time have brought.

There she walks with silken hair blowing in the breeze,

A Shaman shook his rattle, she could hear it in her dreams.

Chanting echoed from canyon walls and someone took her hands,

Twinkling eyes and hawkish grin she saw the Indian lands.

Will the walls of stone be built where children once saw life?

Where spirits roam, amidst the stone, bear witness to the strife.

The time was dear, the feeling's sweet for two who walked as one,

But Chaco’s woman is home at last, never more to run.