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I have the Great Wolf’s spirit
Flowing through my veins.
I can feel how my tribe suffered
When I gaze at their remains.
For all that’s left has turned to dust,
No longer do they cry.
They remain a haunting memory
Where soaring eagles fly.
Once a mighty nation
With pride and love to share
That white men turned to ashes
With no sympathy or care.
In my heart still lives the pain
But I must let it go…
For it hurts me more to carry it
Than white men will ever know.
I still love looking at our land
Though taken from our use.
I feel the pride that dwells inside
As still we suffer from abuse.
TRIBUTE TO NATIVE CULTURE Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
*Dedicated to our Native American brothers and sisters on reservations
Happy Thanksgiving to all American Poets
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2018
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