thehighlanderspoems

What I desire to be, I'll never see

If I could ever come back I know what I would be
I would be indigenous born on the real land of the free

No tribe would it matter for I'd be closer to earth
And I'd probably die like the rest, for what it's worth

But to live so free for many thousands of years
Yes we were fighting, not like our future fears

If we had the guns could you imagine their world
Indigenous invasion, the whole of Europe would have heard

No Dollars,  Mount Rushmore or Sears Tower
Our indigenous grandfathers would hold their power

We will never know where we all would be
What I desire to be, I'll never see


 

Spiritual Pillars

America's gems
Indigenous skyscrapers
Red sculptures of old 








The Indigenous

Apache, the Ndee, "the people" of Arizona and other States
Blackfoot, the Siksika, whose painted red faces we can relate

Cheyenne, the Tsitsistas, meaning relatives of the Cree
Dakota Sioux, the Dakota, meaning little snakes in Ojibwe

Euchee, or Yuchi, are the "children of the sun"
Fox, the Meskwaki, eventually native to Wisconsin

Gros Ventre, strangely named "big belly" by the French
Huron, with their above allies left many a tribe wrenched

Inuit, the Eskimo, this tribe with the snow
Juaneño, from the Sunshine State around Orange and San Diego

Kickapoo, with their linguistic code, unique called "whistle speech"
Lakota, like the Dakota, speak with similar tongues they teach

Mohawk, "People of the Flint" from upstate New York
Navajo, is now the most spoken, where extinction has not gone berserk

Ottawa, "the traders" their name lives on in their City
Potawatomi, "fire keepers" one hundred speakers, my hearts in pity

Qwulhhwaipum, "the prairie people from beyond the mountain range"
Ryawas, by the Missouri River where they no longer reign

Shawnee, meaning "southerner" were are far ranging tribe
Tonkawa, "they keep together" but only a few still reside

Ute, of Colorado and Salt Lake valley fame
Victorious the ones who remain to this day, whilst the V has no name

Wiyot, and its last native speaker, died in 1962
X, xenophobic they would be, to the ancestors of me and you

Yavapai, from Arizona, are the "people of the sun"
Zuni, like all the tribes above, fell victim to the white mans gun
 

Eagles Always Remember

I remember the day they were there
As I soared the thermals and looked down
So many facing a wing and a prayer
As I watched so many in death drown

The indigenous below my skies
Who looked up to me everyday
Warriors of so many tribes
Now look back up again as they become prey

Decades turned into many centuries
As gradually their will was worn down
The eagle so free always remembers
That so many villages became, spiritual ghost towns 



Cherokee Trail

A journey they seek
Now forcibly evicted ~~
Generations past ¬
Everlasting memories
Follow the Cherokee Trail ~~


Rightly Indians Gained

When I look on the white mans past    
And the tribes that never did last            
We have Reagan to thank
Indigenous profits, bank
Casinos, through the doors you'll pass










Feathers in the Wind

Vultures in circle
Dust trails seen in the distance  
Sand Creek Massacre *¬
One hundred and sixty souls
Now just feathers in the wind






Apalachee

As the sun downs through the trees
Greened leaves bow for the eve
This warrior sits and reflects
Alone he plays, it's his way to grieve

For this is no normal scene
What I view he has brought to our lands
His name "people of the other side"
Whose journey was not of his plans

This man who was once a boy
Was found wandering many years ago
Not far from a burnt out homestead
Where his families blood had flowed

Killed by a Mahican raiding party
This short one escaped their wrath
No tribe has escaped their rampage
Death and destruction is their path

Then came the day of anew
When an elder of the village had died
From a piece of wood he would play
The grieving family responded with cries

When we asked he remembered his past
For in his country this was their way
The pipes accompanied lost souls
Their skirl was their way to say

Today he sits by the stream all alone
This boy who grew into a man
He now lives the Apalachee way
Bringing his past to his future lands