Warrior's Sorrow
When I sit my horse on hilltops, I find,
I cannot see the buffalo no more.
As whites have come and made the plains unkind.
Soiled all wondrous things I saw before.
For many winter's, warrior's sustained.
Freed our people to seek warmer winds,
And moved as clouds before coming rain.
To share Mother Earth with our naked skins.
Clouds dark, grow higher than eagle's wings,
As we feel the coming depth of sorrow.
Each moon we see dark smoke and what it brings,
Cries and death songs will echo tomorrow.
We join in ghost dance with its paint of black,
And seek visions from warrior ghosts of old.
We hear the iron horse on its metal track,
And know its fiery heart is burning cold.
Whites who come take each mountain they climb
While bones from buffalo and elk grow deep
Warrior's blood will know the end of time.
Mothers who suckled us with milk, shall weep.
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