I Am
I Am Indian. Who am I? Where
did I come from? Why do they think
me different? I am not white, nor
black. I am not yellow. I am not
red. I am beautifully tan. I am
strong as the great oak. I am weak,
like a willow branch. My spirit soars
high, with the Eagle. I grow with
the warmth of the sun. I am at
peace in the darkness of the moon.
I walk softly and whisper through
the trees. With my bow and my
knife, my belly is full. I take what I
need. I drink from the waters of the
earth. I am free. Why do they not
understand me?
I Am…
I Am…
I Am…
Indian
written by:
turtle/Asha`di 1999 ©
Beaver Tree Originals
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