Hawk's air-springed muscles helped him glide
so swiftly down the mountain side
with sinew buldging spotted rump
he vaulted o'r a rocky hump
Decendants of Chief Joseph's herd
Hawk's canter was like a flying bird
Swollen streams couldnt break his stride
His head held high with Nes Pierce pride
I rode that steed with fleeting speed
his strong legs breaking through high weed
hailstones splattered, horseshoes clattered
and a flock of wild grouse chattered
On shale slid Hawk, tripped and stumbled
down the slope we flipped and tumbled
the snow flakes started swirling down
as I lay hurt, on rocky ground
I was dazed, my body aching
Dizzy, sore and both legs shaking
we both felt pain from head to toes
Yet hurt, Hawk raised me with his nose
I wrapped my wounds and mounting, moaned
said "Come Hawk, now take us home"
around his nect my arms were tied
he started down the mountain side
I dreamed of being safe and warm
As Hawk plowed through that raging storm
and somewhere on that awful trek
I slumped across that great arched neck
Then thoughts came flooding in my head
my wife sat crying by my bed
I wont forget those words she said
"He brought you home...but Hawk is dead"
"For three whole days you've been alseep
the snow outside is five feet deep
once you were home safe and sound
Hawk whinnied once, then dead fell down."
She said "He brought you here on will
and fell when coming down that hill
his legs were gone, but still he came
and when he stopped you breathed his name"
"Oh, no! My God it just cant be."
The screams were coming out of me
"Oh, please don't tell me Hawk has died!"
Then my wife held me while I cried
I know he wasnt man, of course
But just a big ol spotted horse
So tell me, should I miss him so?
A friend who took me through the snow.

© Belinda Cloud Dancer 04/02/2001

The hawk is a dreamer's sign
She sings as she flies
She brings a true message
Her voice sings no lies
She drinks of the rivers
To make her voice clear
The trees are all budding
And springtime is near
She wings to the dreamer
Then floats to the tess
Ever singing the message
Of that yet to be.

© StarHawk Apachee 04/02/2001

I strech out my arms and fly with the eagles
I hunt with the bear
I run with the deer
I swim with the fish
and yet I still am a man

I sing with the wind
I plant the soil
I watch the flame
I listen to the brook
and yet I still am a man

When I will rest
My bones will lay on the soil
my flesh will flow with the river
my spiret will fly with the wind
and yet I am still a man

© LayingBear Anderson 04/02/2001

The children who'd been taken then.
The punishment the white man chose
Was that their parents were forsaken them. . .
Because they were the children of Indians.

They'd divide us so we wouldn't fight:
That's what they supposed back then.
They'd turn our red skin into white
And convert us to their religion. . .
Because we were the children of Indians.

But listen close and you can hear:
The grumbling
the eruption's near.
We've been silent but now it's time;
The earth is rumbling
the awaited sign. . .
For us, the children of the Indians.

The Panther streaks across the sky.
Tecumseh's footsteps shake the earth.
We now begin to raise the cry
To rise and fight for all we're worth. . .
Because we are the children of Indians.

And the Families once divided
Are gathering now to fight.
'Cause we, the children, have long decided
We'd rather be Indian than white. . .
Because we are the children of Indians.

So listen close and you can hear
The grumble of the earthquakes here.
He who's slept now gives the sign:
The rumble begins
it's now our time. . .
We are no longer children
We are the Indians!!

© Tiger Eyes 04/02/2001