Divine Spirit of my Homeland
The divine spirit of my home
land, a story never-ending
only growing stronger
leaving elders beliefs
behind.
Indian tears lie deep, sorrow
stain hearts, that have been
captured, locking culture
of my homeland away in
history books.
Trees of knowledge grow
deep, into the depths of
freedom, where our wolves
wander, the land of the
Indian man, and the
buffalo roam.
Destroyed destiny, lost
heritage terminated by
evil discontinuing in our
land of the red men and
leaving there beliefs blowing
in the distant wind.
Divine Spirit of our mother
land, wash away with the
tears of our people making
them whole again when the
seasons appear once again
the white buffalo appearing.
I shall miss my people, my
beloved heritage.
(My people Shall Roam Forever)
© Derena Bree (All rights reserved)
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