Native Thoughts

UP IN THE RUINS, THE EAGLE FLIES HIGH
HE LOOKS FOR HIS ANCESTORS
HE HEARS THEIR CRIES.

DAYS LONG AGO, A SIGHT TO BEHOLD,
THE LAND SO RICH, SO RICH IN GOLD.
THE KEEPERS OF THE LAND
TOOK GREAT CARE, THEY HUNTED THE BUFFALO
THEY BRAIDED THEIR HAIR.

THE LAND WAS HARVESTED, WITH BEANS AND CORN,
THEIR NECKLACES MADE OF BUFFALO HORNS.
PAINT ON THEIR FACES, SAGE IN THE AIR,
THEY PRAY TO GREAT SPIRIT,
GREAT SPIRIT IS THERE.

THE FIRE A BLAZE, A MIXTURE OF SMOKE AND SAGE,
BEADS AND MOCCASINS, DANCE IN THE HAZE.
GRANDFATHER SUN STARTS TO RISE, EVERYONE'S SPIRITS,
SPIRITS RUN HIGH.

THE SUNDANCE IS OVER
THE DANCING IS DONE, OUR SPIRIT HAS BEEN LIFTED,
LIFTED TO THE SUN.  R.SANTOS 4/95

                                         PHOTO TAKEN BY: ANTHONY SANTOS 2011