Our home was a simple one
Safe and warm and filled with the fire of love
And family
Each day Grandmother would take me down to the water
And as we searched for clams and fish and seaweed
To feed our neighbors and ourselves
She would feed me our ghosts stories as well
Those that had gone before
Those that still visit
She said it was a circle
Life, death and inbetween
A circle that circled within a dream
A dream our loved ones before had created
Then Grandfather would sing me songs that led me off to sleep
This is the order our lives would keep
And no sound was heard from the birds or buffalo
I didn't know
Then came a time our shaman wept
And no one in our village slept
I was so young then
I pretended it was all a story from long ago
Even when the pale men came
I pretended it was all a game
We were traveling again as we sometimes did
When winters chill became too frozen
To fill our bellies
We went further to where the sun was stronger
I said it to calm myself this is the same
I was wrong
We weren't strong enough for their eyes of steel
We went along with their ideal
I remember a trail of tears
Each family leaving something loved behind
And lost along the way
We were taught that we did not know how to pray
I remember that day
I asked Great Spirit to bring us away
From all this pain and misery
It was not to be
And even when I learned their words
My prayers were empty...
This poem was written from memories of the stories her Great Grandmother would tell her when she was a young girl.
About the Author Kat Smith: I am a professional psychic medium and writer living on Long Island N.Y. with my partner Joe and our two Siberian Huskies. We are both proud parents and grandparents and we enjoy the beauty of the ocean and the Sound surrounding us.
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