|
Indian Lullaby
As night time falls in wooded hills the whispers start to flow,
Like gentle wind in my hair to a far away place I go.
Sleep little one I hear for tomorrow will bring a new day,
Of hunting food and drying skins to clothe you while you play.
Young braves will creep with stealth to bring deer for you to eat,
And women will gather wood with which to cook and heat.
Old ones will sit and chip the stone to points that keep us fed,
So sleep little one ‘neath the stars with grass beneath your head.
Sleep the sleep of innocence for soon you’ll have your trials,
Dream not of moving camp while walking long, long miles.
Ask the great white Father to send you peace in your dreams,
And wake to a day filled with joy and the brightest of sunbeams.
So sleep little one ‘neath the stars with grass beneath your head,
No white man here to harm you, be proud that you are red.
© Norma Cornett Marek
~ 28 July 1999 ~
|
