Winds of Time
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Across the land, and in the wind, a way of life would end
Who could have known, when sons were born how deep the blood would run?
Their legends were a journey, that rode against the wind
With prowess, and a valor that is left to memory
Chanted by all their elders, to teach and touch the moon
The flute will tell their stories, and smoke will circle high,
then, drift with loss, and death, and cost, till silent ashes die.
We know of them , ….the sons of dawn, and daughters of the trees
Who watched the eagle sweep the sky, for signs of what would come
They heard the stars speak to the moon, soft whispers in the breeze
The young and old, who carved a place must face what would be gone
Proud and brave against the night when right would turn to wrong
Hearts bled a river, filled with pain. The dusk was red with white men's shame
Rain whispers to a sun filled sky, persuading showers to wash the stains
Where buffalo will graze again, and grasses sway against the wind
Their spirit lived, although the songs, gave thunder a new sound
Pride tends to dying embers, and legends linger on
The songs still blend into the breeze, and trees will shelter man and child
whose heritage is carved in stone, to never feel the threat of shame
or never cringe in vain. Yet...the river always knows
The rock, the leaf, the ruddy dust, would coat the valley floor
The cost, the loss, the bloody core, is gone, forever, more
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2016
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