Our land is everything to us...
I will tell you one of the things we remember on our land.
We remember that our grandfathers paid for it - with their lives."

~John Wooden Legs, Cheyenne

Indian Village
by Judith Johnson Kypta

The Indian village seemed quiet
With its tents lined in a row
Asleep, yet I knew I was dreaming
Of a time...so long ago

I saw an Indian maiden
With her papoose upon her back
Washing clothes at the riverbank
Then placing them in a sack

After a while, I saw children
Making little dolls from beads
Some Indians were plowing the ground
And carefully...planting seeds

Their horses with tails a swaying
Were fastened to a large post
I could smell the delicious aroma
Of meat simmering...as it roast

I saw a group of young braves
Carry a deer...with an arrow in its side
Back...from hunting for their people
On each face was a look of pride

I felt such a peace and love
As I watched them living their life
In this dream..I remember thinking
How we brought them so much strife

It was their land that we invaded
Where they labored to make their home
But...it was greedily taken from them
Causing those Indians....to roam

It's no wonder they became bitter,
And so ready ...to attack
They wanted what was rightfully theirs
And fought....to get it back

After waking from my dream
I had such a compassion inside
And thinking of our forefathers
I felt shame..I couldn't hide

The rest....we know as history
To them...restitution we gave
I myself hold great respect for
Those Indians...the proud and brave!

Copyright ©1998 Judith Johnson Kypta
Used with permission * All rights reserved

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for use of her poetry.

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~Heavenly Poetry~

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Tubes courtesy of:
Winter's & Old's Native American Tubes

Brush courtesy of: Peti's Brushes

Music: Land of the Silver Birch,
Traditional Canadian Folktune
Sequenced by Barry Taylor
Midi is not included in the zipped file.

Font used is Chisel Thin
Created 05/31/04