Lakota

I'm very small I am called Standing Tall My story to be read as i live through it all. Our Dakota lands are forest and vast Where our ancestors have hunted From long in the past. Our tribes are, a confederation of seven With our language of Lakota, Sioux heaven We stand proud as we remember our past And look to our gods, to make it all last. A silhouette on the prairie hill i see This shape in the distance is new to me As we sleep in the night, we hear guns and blows We arise from our camp, to look for the noise We creep on the prairie to their surprise Under the moon, where the land would flow No longer the Buffalo. We mount our ponies to challenge these men What gives them this right to kill and maim Bodies of beasts, furs cut away Missing heads, a ghastly slay. On reaching their camp our bows stretched Arrows screech, hit the wretched Watch them fall to the prarie floor Just like the Buffalo did hours before. Years have passed as we are moved from our lands These poisonous men, and their poisonous glands Bringing illness fever and strife Ending many a Lakota life. We reach a point in History Which made the white man sit up and see Their Golden Child General George Custer And the Little Big Horn, my what a disaster. Arapaho, Cheyenne and us Lakota too Sliced the Blue Jackets, their Scouts too The US Cavalry would have their glee At the Battle Of Wounded Knee Where Siiting Bull would finally rest Standing Tall's story last's the test If we Indians had the same resources Like the silhouette on the hill These praries we always had. would be ours still. http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/native-americans.php