Poetry for native Hope
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things are as a circle,forever guiding itself
back to the start.
our hearths we keep lit,as summer's rain
turns to fall.
we are brothers,we are sisters.
it is all for our children.
every deer we fell,every river crossed.
oh,you say things are not as they were.?.
that they have raped our lands and robbed our lives.
then tell me brother,does not the eagle still soar overhead?
has the river turned it's direction,feeding no longer the sea,but the sky?
has our skin turned pale as moonbeam?
or are we still as we were.
proud,strong and free?
take heart my brother,my sister!
ours has yet to fade.
as surely as Oak stands tall in the storm,we shall remain.
we are the People.
Great Spirit has chosen us,through our deeds of good.
remember,the end is only the begining of our harvest moon.
Howa~it IS good.