Cry OF the Earth

      Between each distance lingers, underneath a pressurized

      Corrosion; of defeatism, percolate on fringes.

      From ceremonies of the storm: Spirit of the Tribe,

      Dance a new song; Drummer, drums, white buffalo.

      Hums, once again having overthrown and pinned down

      On the third count, until flute winds bring flute melodies.

      After fleeting evidence, hope takes flight:

      Like an eagle flies high to summon with an eagle-bone whistle,

      Feathers gently glide through the air; then reborn in the

      Next life. A distant call in a serenade on the pond.

      Where hopes face off faith must be preserved.

      Like the snow on the mountain Mesa Peak; wild stallions  

      Ponies and colts huddle around the dust, as echo sounds

      The cicada brings night in with a gentle pitch.

      Travelers across their native lands driven to extension

      by the blue eyes plan. The Elder and Chiefs gather, their.

      Kins leaves a trail of tears that no one can understand

      that their spirit never dies, it lives on in the rocks, forest,

        rivers, and the mountain, it murmurs, in the brooks and

     whispers in the trees, their hearts are in the earth that

     We now walk on and their voices can never be silent.

     All things connected.

     The Owl, wolf, eagle, bear, salmon, and Snake.

     Medicine power, the gathering of those keepers of the night.

     The earth is the Mother of all people, and all people should

     Have all rights for it. Among people, friendship has.

     Built a bond of furious character.  There is no death only.

     a change of worlds. Everything an Indian has is done in

     a circle and that is because the power of the world is always

     Working in a circle. Listen,