First People :: American Indian Poems and Prayers

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I run, and watch as the storm clouds move in, like fearing to be devoured into nothingness.

Whipping in the wind like a snake, being eaten by the Gods, water spiraling up into the clouds.

Sheets of water and lightning blinding me, the sounds of thunder, like a battle cry, whipping at my senses.

Then silence, all is calm and quiet, trees swaying in the wind. My fear overtaking me, I start to run.

The cloud, hanging over me, swirling itself into a man with flowing white hair and beard.

"No, not you" he says, forming out of a swirling white cloud. "You, you cannot run".

"Look into the darkness, only then you will see what I am about." Standing upon the hill, beyond a valley of darkness, are those who cannot find their way home.

In the wind, I hear the song, a distant heartbeat of a drum reverberating from deep within the womb of the earth.

Deep inside, I see myself, as I turn to come home.

The loneliness.

-© Copyright Wayne Scott of Swan Lake First Nation Reserve of Manitoba Canada

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