She sits shelling corn,gifts from Mother Earth and Father Sun.
Looking out over the village, she watches the children playing.
Maidens and the young Braves still playing the games of their ancestors.
Games that were once needed to hone skills used later in life.
She glances around the camp, watching other women at their work,
some weaving baskets and blankets for storage and warmth later.
Others working in hard earth gardens trying to grow food and herbs.
Sitting there she remembers the stories of her great-grandmother
Stories of how life in the village used to be when the people
still roamed the mountains and valleys and forest as they wished.
Days before they were forced off their land and onto reservations.
Times when they lived by their own work and skills, wonderful times.
Days when game was so plentiful that each hunting party stayed
nearby the village in case of there were raids by nearby tribes
Living was easier then, children didn't die from hunger in winter.
The elders lived with respect, as their knowledge accorded them.
Mother Earth provided for all their needs, and Father Sun warmed them.
The Four Winds protected, watched over and guided them always.
The deer, buffalo, and the antelope gave them food, clothing, and shelter.
All these things and much more were provided by the Great Spirit.
Porcupine quills, seashells, and quartz were always provided,
materials for decorations, hunting, and war were given by Mother Earth.
Life was hard in those days but, oh so much more worth living.
There were no boundaries to bind and hold them, they were FREE.
She sits shelling corn wishing upon wishes that her people,
still lived the Wonderful life of her Great-Grandmother's Days....
by Eagle's Wing Freeman © 1996
|Spirit Flight a Poem of the Spirits|
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