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More Poems

THE MOCCASINS OF AN OLD MAN

I hung you there, moccasins of worn buckskin.
I hung you there and there you are still.
I took you from the hot flesh of a swift buck.
I took you to my woman.

She tanned you with buck brains.
She cut and sewed and beaded.
I wore you with pride.
I wore you with leaping steps over many 
grounds. 

Now, I sit here and my bones are stiff 
with many winters.
You hang there and I shal sit. 
We shall watch the night approach.
--Romona Carden
(Colville)

THE ROCK

The rock lays near
While light comes and goes
The rock only exists 
Said to have no soul
The rock cannot be sad
It knows not the time
It has no life to hold
It can't feel love
As we admire it
It remains in stillness
Yet in it's own way
May watch!
--Lloyd Carl Owle
(Cherokee)

A PRAYER OF THE AMERICAN INDIAN

Oh Great Spirit

Let your voice whisper righteousness in our ear through
the West Wind in the late of the day.

Let us be comforted with love for our brothers and sisters
with no war.

Let us hold good health mentally and physically to 
solve our problems and accomplish something for
future generations of life.

Let us be sincere to ourselves and our youth
and make the world a better place to live.
--Lloyd Carl Owle
(Cherokee)

BLACK ELK'S PRAYER

Hey-a-a-hay! Lean to hear my feeble voice.
At the center of the sacred hoop
You have said that I should make the tree to
bloom.
With tears running, O Great Spirit, my
Grandfather,
With running eyes I must say
The tree has never bloomed.
Here I stand, and the tree is withered.
Again, I recall the great vision you gave me.
It may be that some little root of the sacred tree
still lives.
Nourish it then
That it may leaf
And bloom
And fill with singing birds!
Hear me, that the people may once again go back
To the Sacred Hoop
Find the good road
And the shielding tree.
--Black Elk


 
 
 

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Cherowolf
October 16, 2000
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