I Dream

I turn off my t.v. and close my window pane I hear the rain against the window as I lay down to dream. I hear a thousand Grandfathers in buckskin ride the lightning with thier lances lifted high, And the lowing of a thousand Buffalo across the evening sky. I hear the trilling of a thousand Grandmothers as their tears begin to fall like the rain. And I twist and turn in my bed feeling thier long ageold pain. Suddenly I am at Sand Creek where a thousad Cheyenne died and I feel my feet begin to a ghostly dance as I begin to cry. I see a husband his wife is gone and I hear a child singing the death song. Suddenly I'm on the trail where the Cherokee Cried and see far back where so many lost souls have perished and died.
My heart bleeds for the needless slauter of so many innocent souls this foolish thing that was done and the thunder rolls. Then I'm in the Black Hills staring at Sacred Stone where four white faces were carved there in the mountains forever blemishing their sacred tome. Suddenly I awaked by the thunder up on high and I hear a ghostly whisper saying do not cry little sister the sacred tree is broken but it was a good day to die...

Rayn copyright 2001 published 2001