(See this sometimes on funeral bulletins around the rez. Thought it was cool enough to reprint.)
O Tunkasila, whose voice I hear in the wind and whose breath gives life to all the world, hear me, I come before you, one of your many children.
I am small and weak. I need your strength and wisdom. Let me walk in beauty and make my eyes behold the red and purple sunset.
Make my hands respect the things you have taught my people; the lessons you have hidden in every leaf and rock. I seek strength grandfather, not to be superior to my brothers, but to be able to fight my greatest enemy – myself.
Make me ever ready to come to you with clean hands and a straight eye so that when life fades, as the fading sunset, my spirit may come to you without shame.