Only Creator Knows

Native American Poetry

The snowshoe's gone, Buffalo roam on,
When sweet grass blows, only Creator knows
Our Spirit will be remembered.
Through eyes of old,
Like leaves turning gold,
Leave no trace of winter's cold,
Our Spirit will be remembered.
Our hearts you bury six feet below,
Clouds carry spirit where evergreens grow,
Our Spirit will be remembered.
Snow capped peak is where journey ends,
Until tomorrow, goodbye my friends,
Spirit comes to rest beneath the good red road,
For how long? Only Creator knows.

Copyright Eva Ladyhawk Wright