24 Beautiful Poems


She often beckons me from my sleep

We walk the paths of long ago. She softly speaks secrets.. I am sworn to keep

She speaks of a home she knew long ago When she took for granted the seasons The spring flowers and the winters snow..

When they came and made her family leave She was too young to understand how she would Grieve..

The sight of strong men and women .. Growing weaker day by day.. What could they say ?

Over mountains steep and tall Across rivers deep and wide.. To hot prairie land scarce water.. Or no water at all..

Bitter harsh land was where they were led "Indian Nation" so it was said. The land was to be theirs forever and a day.

She reminds me to never let bitter hate sit in.. Love and hope should dwell within.. With a heart yearning for Peace... The promise .. I will endeavor to keep

We pray for Peace upon this land On Mother Earth.. We make few demands..

We beseech those empowered to .. Set wrongs done ...Back to right... We seek justice and our birth right...

Ladybird - July, 2003

A Hot Day In July

The Buffalo fly's are so thick I must continually wipe my baby's eyes She no longer has strength to cry.

I long to see the mountains green Taste the cool clean water. Find the healing herbs. Wake up and find this all a dream.

My baby can no longer roll over on her own I must move her head She now lacks the pull to make my milk flow. This child I watch weaker grow.

So many have perished on this march, Once we were many Now we are few. I feel eyes stare from beyond the trees. Knowing some are watching me.

Do they know what we feel? Do they really care ? I would throw food To even a wild dog, I could not watch children die.

The tree's are far, the grass is high. I sense my baby is to die.

I gaze up at the endless sky... I hear Mother Earth as she cries. She sob's ... She sighs She say's not question why.

I must will myself... To pass this test To know inside that Survival is my quest..

To grow old and wise.. And tell of all that died..

Ladybird, June, 2003


Submitted by Weaver

I greet you, Ancient Brother Man

And point with gratitude

To these the artifacts you made in eons past,

The signature of man's slow rise

Is on each tool, each point, each axe

And we can sense the human impact still.

Who smoked this pipe? Who threw this spear?

And was it made for enemy-or deer?

I kneel upon mountain circled flat

To feel the ancient ashes yield, and see

A kinship gift which you have left for me,

I grasp within my hand a perfect tool

So long ago chipped carefully from stone,

And know but for the timing of our fates

It might have been my own,

I touch with care its edges keen and fine,

Where once you placed your thumb

here now is mine.


Submitted by Lynn Smith, Austraila

A wise woman was traveling in the mountains and she found a precious stone in a stream.

The next day she met another traveler who was hungry, and the wise woman opened her bag to share her food. The hungry traveler saw the precious stone and asked the woman to give it to him. She did so without hesitation.

The traveler left rejoicing in his good fortune. He knew the stone was worth enough to give him security for a lifetime. But, a few days later, he came back to return the stone to the wise woman.

"I've been thinking," he said. "I know how valuable this stone is, but I give it back in the hope that you can give me something even more precious. Give me what you have within you that enabled you to give me this stone."

The Sundance grounds bask in the rays

of the setting sun

The exchange of time;

Of the bright energy of the sun

for the soft, unfocused energy of the moon

Day into night

Shadows and light

pass over the dance arbor;

The sacred circle of interlocking trees,

blessed for their sacrifice;

surrounding the warrior tree

That stately sentinel

pointing the way to the heavens

o Wakan Tanka, the Creator

An eternal symbol of

Courage of the heart

Bravery of the body

And humility of the spirit

From the trees on the far side of the grounds


A shape without form

A form without substance

A vision

A feeling

A knowing

One who watches and guards

this sacred place

And two who enter

with pure hearts

And souls open to absorb

the wisdom of the ancient ones

I watch the emerging of spirit,

the passing of time;

humbled beyond belief

To be so graced

So blessed

So thankful

That after years of wandering unaware,

my steps led me to this land of enlightenment Shine down on me beautiful stars;

faces of my ancestors who passed before

Hold me safe in your eternal glow

Oh, gentle night breeze;

whisper softly over my skin

Cradle me close, as a child

in her mother's arms

Gracious moon, light my way

to the warrior tree

Where I may kneel and pray

for guidance, for assurance

Spirit keeper of the Sundance

Guardian of the sacred land

You blessed me with the gift of sight

A fleeting glimpse of the immortal side

May I now receive the benediction

Of an ever growing soul,

and an ever opening heart

And may I always

be worthy of this night


In the beginning,

there was silence

Until God taught the wind

to whistle through the rippling grass

And echo in the highest mountain pass

He taught the mocking bird to sing

And the tiny thrush, the trill

that's carried on the still morning air

He taught the leaves to rustle in the breeze

And the thunder, its sonorous rumble

He taught the waters of the world their rolling beat

as they lap against the shores

When all of nature knew their parts to play,

God taught the art of the dance

he sun does a stately promenade

across the arc of day

A wallflower, the moon will never be;

For the stars line up to partner her

in the night's minuet

The planets all fall in line for their dance

of synchronized turning and timing

As the dance of the dawn;

between the stars and the sun,

goes on and on

Life's dance is never done

From the first step,

in the moment just before birth;

when the soul comes spinning down to earth

Spinning down through time

to find the ones chosen to instruct

Through mating dances,

loving dances, and leaving dances;

Our feet continue to find the steps

Our hearts to feel the beat

The dance is never done

Even when living and dying become one

For death is but a segue

to another world

Another way of life

With a different partner

by your side

Earth Mother;

She sings the song of life.

May we now be the chorus.

Willows weeping

crystal tears

Liquid sorrow


into healing quartz;


down a mountainside

The pride goes

in the fall;

building momentum

on the downward slide


the debris of despair;

once scattered about

drifting aimlessly

in the wind

Willows weeping

tears of quartz

For those of us

whose sorrow

obliterates tomorrow

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