(Great Warrior)

I am the light of the clouds and the rain in the air;

My feathers spiral from the staircase of heavens lair,

I am the mysterious voice from troubled times past,

And the earth under the fields of orchard wheat grass.

I am the teardrop from a cloud upon the warriors grave,

And the shadow that charges before the riding brave,

I am the setting sun that kisses the earth’s gentle hand,

And a blanket of petals that lay over the mother land.

I am the spirit of the thunderbird that encircles thy path,

And the protector against the coyote’s cunning wrath.

I am the wayward trail that leads to the highest  rock.

And the seeing behind the keen eyes of a hawk.

I am the remembrance of your ancestral struggled past,

And the journey on the trail of tears until the very last.

I am with you from the beginning until the end,

For I am the ancestral drum of your heart that beats within.

Vision Quest

My journey ventures before a tranquil diamond sky

Above the open terrain before the moons watchful eye

The ground is swelled in a layered ocean grain

Slowly ascending me above the high grassy plains

Taking me away aloft to a far off land

Where the wolf runs with no fear of man

Where the beauty scriptures under the falling rain

Where my heart dwells amongst the field flowers stain

This journey’s passage before 3 token moons

Chanting into the fourth days mid afternoon

Adhering to the dialect of a holy mans prayer

I journey into the afterlife leaving my earthly cares.

Adanvdos Gugalas Nanah Nunahi

(Hearts Falling on Trail)

A tribal winter before a peaceful snow spell

Buffalo on the plains huddled in the masses

Falling feathers from heavens sky dwell

On the land shadowing flakes upon its grasses

A serene peace fills the Cherokee village

As children search for wood to feed the fires pillage

A quiet meadow ice capped in crystal serene

Lay ghostly still before the blue dusk dream

The vision dissipates before me to the awakening morning sun

Before the trembling tremor of the charging buffalos at run

I cast my sight through my window before the charging pledge

But I see no buffalo from the second story window ledge

I see a village of concrete riddled caves

And goliath steeds with men inside its cage

I cannot hear the wolf’s peak howl

I instead hear sirens amidst smoke stacked clouds

I see no tribal masses gathered to pray for a blessed day

Just a people in fear locked behind rocks of sand and clay.

It empties my heart to see that there was no feather of peace

And that the Cherokee village is now gone along with the sacred beast