My Native Land
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And in my dream- I am a native girl,
I stand on a high cliff soaring above;
the wind is whirling,
caressing me with love.
Below the mighty Ottawa roars,
above in the azure the eagle soars;
I am one with nature and have no fears,
birds are singing;
flutes are ringing,
time is ticking.
These jagged rocks my throne,
this place I like to roam;
once to the horizon was my home,
deep in my forest the paths are cool.
See the deep pool,
and wildflower jewels;
I am falling and my eagle feathers twirl,
and I wake up weeping, a lost native girl.
______________________
August 9, 2016
Poetry/Verse/My Native Land
Copyright Protected, ID 16- 816-313-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Submitted to, Contest No. 330
sponsor, Brian Strand
Second Place
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2016
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