I wake in the morning to sounds of the mother and to the warmth of the sun and leave my house where my fathers lodge once stood,
Go to the car and drive down the paved road which my fathers traveled on horse back across the prairie,
I cross the park and go past the tennis courts and baseball fields where my fathers once had winter camp and I climb the mountain,
To the top to touch the sky,
I light my pipe and blow smoke to the four winds
and sit within the circle scratched in dirt.
I look out upon the land below and see the houses turn to teepees and the cars to buffalo, the planes to eagles.
I look upon the lake and see warriors in canoes instead of rushing speed boats. And then everything turns slowly
back to the way it was.
I see that the mother still lives below us, and I wonder,
have we not forgotten the land? Do we not shun away from what the whites have done to it? The mother still lives
and we still belong to her.
Many have forgotten the past and call it dead, but these things still live within my heart and my spirit.
And the children, have we taught them
to keep this
in their hearts.
Our people are not gone they are merely lost,
they cannot find their path forward because they do not know where they have come from.
I will cry no more for what has been lost, but will raise my peace pipe to the air and thank the Great Spirit for my vision.
The way is forward.
To teach the children all the wonderful things they have
to be proud of.
This nation, this United States would have no past, if it were not for my fathers,
no stories of greatness,
and no stories of sadness.
These stories must be told and taught, but not with sadness, told with pride.
I raise my fists to the air and thank the Great Spirit for bringing me to the People, for my victories and my defeats. I toss tobacco to the four winds and journey back down the paved roads with the four winds blowing through my windows...and truly I am "Home".
The lands are not gone,
the buffalo are not gone,
the people are not gone.
They live in my heart and my spirit, they will only be gone when we have forgotten them
and have not passed those things on
to our young.
Author Unknown to Me