Native Dreams

Spirit warriors move softly All through the shade While the children are sleeping They surround the camp A delay, then the song starts And through the end Chanting, “death will come sweetly” “as the wind, the bow, and the stone” Until the fields are red with ancient merlot Heaven helps a friend Spotless and gleaming They dream past their tents With a crow as their armor And snakes to defend The fields that their fathers saw grow Heaven helps a friend Slain at the Altar The vultures are stalking They lay in the open And the Earth is being fed by spears