8/14/2019 A Tribute to the Red Indians

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A TRIBUTE TO THE RED INDIANS

It was daybreak and a cool strong breeze,

Caressed his body and shook the trees,

As he emerged from the icy river deep,Whose clear cold water had rid him of sleep.

Two dusty moccasins lay at the waters edge,

To-ing an fro-ing as ripples spilled over the ledge

Where he had left his clothes,

When still half in a sweet repose.

His naked body caught the first beams of light,

And his tanned physique was one of might,

With a commanding and well defined face,

Which leant itself to a kindly look of grace.There, high in the mountains he stands,

Looking out over what were once fertile lands,

The dawn advancing as he faces the sun,

That dances far way upon a golden horizon.

Stripped of all material thoughts that smother,

Equal in every way to each sister and brother,

To meet the Great White Spirit in silent meditation,

To meet the new sweet earth and Great Silence alone.

The breeze rustles his coarse black hair,He breathes deeply the fresh mountain air,

Absorbing the suns healing and strengthening rays,

This is how the Indian starts and ends his days.

His soul is like a pool of pure water clear,

Awaiting a reflection of his Creator upon it here,

In the stillness of his innermost heart he finds,

A sense of joy and peace to which the White man is blind.

The White people never cared for beast or land,

They believed theirs was the right to command,

When the Indians killed they ate it all,

But look at how the numbers of the buffalo fall.

The White people plough up the ground,

Pull down the trees and kill everything around,

We shake and down the acorns and pine nuts above,

The earth is the womb of life revered by us with love.

The White people pay no attention,

They blast rocks and trees and I should mention

Thats what hurts them,

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But their cries go unheard except by my brethren.

How can the spirit of the earth love the White man,

Even the animals when he called them ran,

The Indian understands with his heart,

Making contact mentally and spiritually with natures art.They should not have listened to the White mans words,

Their tales were not true unlike the birds,

Who sing to the morning and all it brings,

Appreciating in life the simplest things.

The Indian opened his eyes and looked ahead,

Below in a valley all barren and dead,

Lay a small plot of land which they had been given,

Fr from the lands they knew from which they were driven.

But this idea of owning a piece of the earth,Was alien to the Indian who from birth,

Cherished his freedom and all that it gave,

Now this was their prison, this was their grave.

He must return to the reservation quickly now,

Or else the soldiers would notice somehow,

That he was missing and treat him as a potential threat,

How the White man does worry and fret.

But though they had tried to crush his soul,

The spirit of his people had a higher goal,They took joy and peace on every occasion,

A merry people, good nature in which an inner light shone.

Then from the shadows a figure emerges

And he feels within him an excitement surges,

For she has come again to share some time,

His adrenaline pumps for it seems like a crime.

Her fine linen dress trails on the ground,

Her heart races and beats with a pound,

She as stolen away again and then him found.

Into his arms her warn body she presses,

Hidden beneath a hat her curly tresses

Fall as he sets her hair free,

And like golden corn the sight pleases me.

For her skin is as pale as the glow of the moon,

With eyes that sparkle and a voice like a tun

Which the White man had forgotten,

The sound of freedom chanted by the slaves who pick cotton.

She has her own views she believes they are right,

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That the power of all is a gentler might,

Th animals love him the trees are his friends,

When he calls they come, when he asks they bend.

A Red Indian and a White woman caught in embrace,

Love pours from each with a gentle grace.In the warm sunshine by trees and flowers,

Their bodies pressed together their aura embowers.

There is a truth and a wisdom contained in their hearts,

That soul loving feeling which each one imparts,

No matter their religion or colour of skin,

Ageless we share with each other the truth thats within.

For here stands a couple who approached one another,

Forgetting their differences just earth sister and brother,

It is love in all its myriad of forms,Which blesses the spirit and weathers lifes storms.

We must always remember and never lose sight,

That these two souls together bathed in the light,

Have forgotten the restraints that man does impose,

And from the embers of love a fire arose.

Their lives are the richer for setting themselves free,

As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be.