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