We are proud people but we are invisible....

Become an Indian again

Where buffaloes sleep in the tall grass
and the clouds pursue each other over the prairies,
there lives the presence of my ancestors.

They tell me to seek endurance, catch a butterfly,
chase grace as I gallop my horse.
I pluck the butterfly from the sky,
rub its wings against my heart,
and ask for swiftness and courage.

We are proud people but we are invisible
to the outside world.
I touch my grandfather's arm
and his skin is smooth as the earth's surface
and in passing the bow, he returns his love.

My elders put my heart in front of theirs
lifting it to a better life.
I spring out the soft glow of fire,
clean my spirit, for pride and ignorance
have led me away from my people
and our past.

We have lost the way
that has brought us here,
so I sit with the old one as he sings,
as he dances, as he is silent
and become an Indian again.

Poetry by Scharlie Meeuws
Read 476 times
Written on 2007-12-06 at 16:22

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text

The earlier comments say it all. Great insighful poem, I loved it.
It speaks of the things that our race has lost...

Kathy Lockhart The PoetBay support member heart!
this is beautifully written with wonderful imagery and deeply felt emotions. I enjoyed reading this very much.

Rob Graber
Very nice assertion of ethnic identity! Did you consider "our" for "their" in line 19?

ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
A well writan , a well put over poem . Enjyde very much.
Thank you. Ken D Williams