Are We Not Brothers, Made From the Same Dirt, Tribute To Philip Freneau

Are We Not Brothers, Made From The Same Dirt, (Tribute to Philip Freneau and his poem, The Dying Indian) Are We Not Brothers, Made From The Same Dirt I welcome you- sweet dawn, soft break of day As your vibrant voice sounds, seeming to say Lad, I bid you relief from dark and gray Feel my coming golden rays and rejoice So precious life's gift, giving love free voice Embrace your honor, honor that wise choice- You are of braver heart, red is your blood You are red-man, Native pride your soul floods You hunt ancestral lands, wade tidal muds, There amidst tall trees, beauty of the glades You young lad are of pure Native blood made Spirit must stay strong, as your time soon fades In dreams, you sail to paradise isles You race through countryside for miles and miles Live, soon your tribes will become sad exiles- As you dare the great beast to your soul fight Search mysteries that hide truth out of sight Know that same hungry beast, will your race smite! Alas! Fate's wicked hands, its evil sends. Stopping mercy, from which Heaven descends. I beg mother earth, this carnage avert Heal dark souls of men, stop such coming hurts Are we not brothers, made from the same dirt Do we all not cry, the same red blood bleed Are we all not sprung from weak mortal seeds In pain, do we not, to same Father plead- Will violence and death, your greed absolve Can we seek to, our differences resolve Must destruction serve as means to evolve, Is what will be gained, a treasure to you Shall we learn to love, same sky's glowing blues Share life's sweet gems, paying brotherly dues Walk lit paths, love flowering meadows too- Live serving peace and discover anew Enjoy a rainbow's hope, its many hues? Alas! Fate's wicked hands, its evil sends. Stopping mercy, from which Heaven descends. Robert J. Lindley, 9-07-2020 Rhyme, ( Written for new blog-- a blog not posted yet )