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About This Poem
The Flute Sings, A Dakotah Tribute
Through closed eyes, I see what has become of their land.
I hear flutes, blessings drifting across a land filled with
highways and stoplights, never silenced.
Through closed eyes, I see children screaming and running,
smoke from soldiers muskets settling upon their fallen bodies.
Through closed eyes, their drums still beat, Warriors still dance,
and strength of their Elders lives on.
Through closed eyes, flutes are heard,
and Spirits
never die.
Minnesota
12/26/12
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