To Dream of Plains

I will perhaps...dream of Plains
where eagle's wing cleaves high thermals
and I...wearing raiment of skin
stand with the old guardians
Where children of the wild and hallowed grass
call to the bison horde
Lords of the windswept wilds
roiling and thunderous in a majesty of flight

With eyes of yearning...I may see
sun split razored crags
stone bound relics of an antediluvian sea
And I...holding bones of devining
sit with the land's first keepers
where the brown clawed bane of salmon
careens through streams of crystal
and the wild waters dance in an ectasy of light

With tongue of fire...I perhaps can speak
of the precious winds of healing
And I...hark to the keens of shamans
spinners of that sacred wheel
and the high wild dews
born beneath a sky of lights
glisten for the rising morning

With feet of longing...I may walk
to the mountains high where breathes
the solemn airs of antiquity
And I...in the shadow of dreamcatchers
feel belonging's flare
while standing true to turning and...
to feel scents on that wolf laden air
crying to the boughs of cedars

With ears of music...I may hear
the cachophany of conquest
born of greed and famine's lagacy
And I...witness of the solitudes
see the new way dawn
built of compass
square and stone
A bell rings out
heralding a future age

With hands of blood...I will redeem
memories of genocide
They stand...these messengers of the past
And I...weilder of cold arrows
wait
as the new age pilgrims came
to build a world on the bones of history
and denizens of the age old soil
bow and cede
it is over

With heart of love...I will remember
A circle formed in the arc of fire
dancing the wheel of nature's pain
And I...holder of snake eyes
watch the feathered dreamers
clad in the solace of remembering
watching
their end of days
while the wild horses prance
into history