Sunrise prayers to greet the morning,
Arms out stretched towards Father Sky.
Roaming plains were buffalo ample,
Unafraid the eagle did fly.

Buffalo shook a once prosperous land,
Stomping hooves sound like thunder.
Young did seek for Elders' wisdom,
Eyes wide and filled with wonder.

No boundaries or Reservations,
To ones will freedom to roam.
No ownerships nor any deeds,
This land we once all called home.

A young brave he does fast,
Patiently waits for a vision to come.
Traditions were regarded highly,
Dancing to the sacred drum.

Wolf our faithful brother,
A loyal and true spirit guide.
Mountain juniper and deer sinew,
Bow and arrow a hunter's pride.

Stories told around flickering flame,
In the air harmony it flowed.
Survival needs for all living creations,
Mother Earth graciously bestowed.

Along with hawk soared our spirit,
Light as the sacred eagle's feather.
Painted sunsets mauve and gold,
Like the wild unruly heather.

Hide from the buffalo lodgings,
To keep out the rain and snow.
Mother Earth cared for with honour,
Days of old,
Where Did They Go?

©Elizabeth Ann Bushey
January-29-2007©
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