Native American Son

On a grassy knoll silhouetted against the rising sun, Astride his pinto pony sits a Native American son. A majestic bronzed brave, feathers wafting in the breeze, Arms uplifted in obeisance, the Great Spirit to appease. He offers thanks to Him for the grandeur of creation, For the sun and moon from which he gathers inspiration; For flowing rivers and the life-nurturing rain, And for the beasts that roam the vast, verdant plain. He asks the Great Spirit to bless his arrow and bow, That with true aim he can fell life-sustaining buffalo, To contribute to the welfare of his tribal clan, A feast of roasted meat and many hides to tan. He prays that among his brothers peace will prevail, And that he be protected as he lopes along the trail. He pleads for honor in battle be the outcome victory or defeat, And that he be brave and not falter against foes he shall meet. A tear rolls down his cheek thinking of his ravaged, sacred land; Broken treaties and those who deal with deceitful hand. With sad heart he lowers his arms and slowly turns away, Determined that from the paths of his fathers he will never stray. Entry for Line Gauthier's "Tribute To Native Culture" Contest