Prayers & Poerty Page

Poetry and Prayer

Prayer from our Prayer Warrior

Shkee, Creator, for all the wonders you have given us. Mother Earth, the rains, the crops the people, the triumphs, and yes, even the challenges. We are sad to come before you with troubled hearts, but none can heal us but You. Enter each heart with love and gentle guidance. Show us mercy and love and teach us to how to forgive others as you do us. We are your Tsalagi children, learning the ways of our ancestors, growing closer to our Creator and our world. Strengthen us to stand the challenges. Let us be listeners instead of shouters. Let us be binding with each other and not offend. Let us find ourselves and our heritage in your guiding light. Let us love one another openly and freely, for you will replenish the love given. Guide our leaders and keep them always close to your heart. Hear our Morning Song as we start each day, and walk with us on the Spirit Path. Bring our family closer and let us reach out to those not yet among us. We follow you, Creator, as only You know the plan of the Great Mystery. hayv

Dances Lightly

Remove us Again

What has become of the word respect?
Is there none left today? 
Is there nothing you would honor? 
If we were digging up your cemetary, 
What would you say?

These bones of old may mean nothing to you. 
But herein resides our ancestors. 
Resting in these most sacred sites. 
We are here as their protectors.

You say these roads and stores are progress. 
But it is not thru your cemetary you cross. 
Your people lie in complete rest. 
Ours is not your loss.

You have driven us from our lands before. 
This we knew would be.
Can we not finally be at peace? 
Is there nothing Holy you can see?

Look into your hearts this day. 
And all the others to come. 
What will you see within? 
What are you to become?

This greed of man is an evil thing. 
But seems to rule your heart. 
Its never too late to make a change. 
Now's the time to start.

Stop the destruction of our people, our lands. 
Stop and close this door of sin. 
Let us all gather to pray. 
It is time for a new day to begin.

Have you not seen within yourselves.
The destruction you have wrought. 
Only in the name of progress. 
For roads to be made and gee gaws can be bought?

Our people wish only to live in peace. 
And honor how we were taught. 
To show respect for all things. 
Its so little the things we've sought.

There's been enough of hate and greed. 
New seeds must now be planted. 
But through these deeds like this you do. 
Taking this thing called progress for granted.

We gave and gave and had more stolen.
Just to please this greed. 
But now is the time to take a stand. 
And respect us in our need.

These sites to us are still most Holy. 
And these bones that lie within. 
Show the respect you would like returned. 
Let the healing begin.

The road we have traveled has often been hard. 
Your progress making it even more so. 
Remove us once again? 
We are saying, "NO!"

by Deborah Awiunegusdi
(1997 - All Rights Reserved)

They walked on 
Bloody feet..... 
The Grandmothers, 
Grandfathers, 
Mothers, 
Fathers, 
Sisters, 
Brothers 
On Bloody feet..... 
Thousands of miles 
they walked......... 
and 
Died..... 
On Bloody Feet.
Tsusda

Columbus Day

In school I was taught the names
Columbus, Cortez, and Pizzaro and
A dozen other filthy murderers.
A bloodline all the way to General Miles,
Daniel Boone and general Eisenhower.


No one mentioned the names
Of even a few of the victims.
But don't you remember Chaske, whose spine
Was crushed so quickly by Mr. Pizzaro's boot?
What words did he cry into the dust?


What was the familiar name
Of that young girl who danced so gracefully
That everyone in the village sang with her--
Before Cortez' sword hacked off her arms
As she protested the burning of her sweetheart?


That young man's name was Many Deeds,
And he had been a leader of a band of fighters
Called the Redstick Hummingbirds, who slowed
The march of Cortez' army with only a few
Spears and stones which now lay still
In the mountains and remember.


Greenrock Woman was the name
Of that old lady who walked right up
And spat in Columbus' face.
We Must remember that, and remember
Laughing Otter the Taino who tried to stop
Columbus and who was taken away as a slave.
We never saw him again.


In school I learned of heroic discoveries
Made by liars and crooks.
The courage Of millions of sweet and true people
Was not commemorated.


Let us then declare a holiday
For ourselves, and make a parade that begins
With Columbus' victims and continues
Even to our grandchildren who will be named
In their honor.


Because isn't it true that even the summer
Grass here in this land whispers those names,
And every creek has accepted the responsibility
Of singing those names?
And nothing can stop
The wind from howling those names around
The corners of the school.


Why else would the birds sing
So much sweeter here than in other lands?

by Jimmie Durham, Cherokee