INDIAN NATION

We called them our brothers, our friends of love and light,

and then  they stole our homes, like vultures in the night.

We taught them how to hunt and fish, and live from the land.

They treated us like enemies, we called them our friends.

They told us we had to leave our homes and find another place.

The land they gave us to live on, was filled with open space.

We had to leave behind, the only home we ever knew,

to go to the west, where nothing ever grew.

They told us we could live here, we could always stay,

but even as they said that, we had to move away.

Now we're scattered here and there, like pebbles on the sand,

so our white brothers could live upon this land!

A WARRIOR'S CONFESSION TO HIS FAIR MAIDEN

Oh, my love, how fair you are.

You are brighter than a night time star.

The wind sweeps your silken, wavy hair,

and your eyes are like drops of amber rare.

We climb upon a mountain high,

and watch the sun set in the sky.

Together we watch the stars above,

vowing our eternal love!

ODE TO THE LOST INDIAN NATION

You came to our land of milk and honey fair,

and tramped through our woods, as if we were not there.

You ignored all our pleas for peace, and marched us to and fro.

And now we are scattered here and there, with no place else to go.

You beat us like dogs, and expect us to bow down.

You made us hungry and weak, until we fell to the ground.

You took our daughters for wives, and made our nation weak.

You made cowards out of most, and now we are afraid to speak.

So now I humbly ask you, was it worth the fight,

to scourge our villages, and raid us through the night?

You thinned out our bloodlines, you thought you were so smart.

You may take the Indian from our blood, but never from our heart!

SOULS OF YESTERDAY

They still walk the plains, when the moon is high,

their ghostly figures walking by.

Wolves upon a high rock, with their frosted breath of air,

look out upon the poor souls, with their amber stare.

The cold plains full of snow, the weary band draws near,

silent is the night, but for the wailing cries you hear.

Marching onward they go, moving faraway,

soon they disappear, the souls of yesterday!

THE MEDICINE MAN  (CALL OF THE WOLF)

On a cold moonlit night, with snow upon the ground,

majestic mountains standing tall, where no soul is found,

only the medicine man, with his palette round.

In the distance a hooting Owl, as he takes to flight,

or the faint Bobcat growl, as he vanishes from sight,

then silence, as the medicine man chants long into the night.

Suddenly a heart-felt cry, a wolf stands by the tree,

with his amber soulful eyes, appearing magically,

like a spirit, roaming wild and free.