Injun Song
On a hill, in the shade of pines,
stands a man.
Sunlight flickers on his long black hair
and dances on his bronze skin.
On his shoulder stands an eagle;
on his back; bow and arrow.
Behind him a deer peeks from it's cover;
a raccoon walks into the open,
joining a rabbit there.
See the phantom standing there among the pines?
It is the spirit of my forefathers and he beckons to me:
I smile at him and
step forward to follow.
The deer withdraws its head and
the rabbit bounds out of sight.
He frowns.
See the phantom standing there among the pines?
It is the spirit of my forefathers and he beckons to me:
I stand and wait,
I hang my head in shame.
For I realize
that I know not his way.
See the phantom standing there among the pines?
It is the spirit of my forefathers and he beckons to me:
I have taught myself much
since last we stood thus.
I walk to him
in the old way.
The deer steps forward
and the raccoon laughs.
He turns and disappears into the forest.
See the phantom standing there among the pines?
It is the spirit of my forefathers and he beckons to me:
He guides me through the forest
watching from his lead.
I collect a twig, berries, and leaves;
walk smoothly around a snake.
He turns and smiles:
"You have done well."
See the phantom standing there among the pines?
It is the spirit of my forefathers and he beckons to me:
He opens his mouth and speaks,
musical, soulful words tumble from his mouth.
I cry.
For I know not what he says.
The eagle screams
and takes to wing.
See the phantom standing there among the pines?
It is the spirit of my forefathers and he beckons to me:
I tell him "Your words are not written.
I know not how to learn."
He shakes his head, not understanding,
turns, and walks away.
On a hill, in the shade of a pine
sits a man.
Sunlight flickers on his long gray hair
and dances on his weathered bronze skin.
He sits alone,
no animals join him there.
Behind his tree
a forest of stumps,
a creek of oozing slime.
See the phantom sitting there against the pine?
It is the spirit of my forefathers and he beckons to me:
He begins to chant...
"What do you sing?" I ask with my eyes.
"My death song," he answers
as he lays down to die.
No! I cry. You cannot leave.
There is still much that can be done
while the water runs and
grass grows under the sun.
We should not stop and grieve.
The Master of Breath still reigns.
See the phantoms standing among the pines?
They are the spirits of my ancestors
and they beckon to me.
Come dance with us, they chime.
Together the healing can begin
as the smoke spirals and spins.
Hold tight to what has been taught,
It is not what you first thought.
You have been called to teach
and share when others reach.