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Poetry

Savage Pride

I think sometimes, in my deepest sleep
when my deepest dreams dream their way, my way
I may stray a lil too far from the path I wanted to stay ~
upon.. those grounds the music is loud, the people are clear to me
near to me, I can hear their breath in the shuffle and I can see,
…the work in each and every bustle.
I didn’t intend to go this far..
but it’s not a bad thing,
just sometimes its a little hard..
to leave again, to slip away
to return to the goings of a normal day.
but upon those grounds, the music is loud, and the people are clear to me –
no longer is the truth resting in a shroud of mystery,
clearly and proudly we wrote our own history..
and it’s here that we speak in our own tongue
and I am taken back to when I was so young ~
and the world was open, and full of hope and,
waiting. waiting.
your teachings taught me there was more in life than hostile preachings,
when hostile Hostiles may’ve been who we are, or were, but what now?
because from my end, our end, there was no beginning and no end;
and we were living in only a bend,
in time, in our history ~ clear and open, not shrouded in mystery
that taught me Savage Pride, to take it with me far and wide,
that the hostile Hostiles weren’t us at hand,
but were the Occupants residing,
upon Our Land.

~Written by Caledonia Rattlinggourd

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About CRG

Editor in Chief of the Voice of the Indigenous, Writer.

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