Dakota Dream

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In the middle of the battle I often think of the Dakota.

A dream, in the mountains, horses

approach snorting, pawing the ground

feathers dangle, but their war paint is missing.

At the campfire I ask, “How

did you survive, when so many

have perished?”

A pipe is silently passed from one

to another, as I inhale, the answers dawn

without words, smoke

takes our prayers to heaven,

and peace again stills the heart

living

within us.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies

22 thoughts on “Dakota Dream

  1. I love the Native American spirit and you painted a scenery with your words which in some way feels very familiar to me. In some way, you took me home…. wonderful!

  2. I always read and like your work, but never say anything. So today, I want to tell you that your writing is lovely! Keep going, I’m reading and smiling 🙂 Peace. . .

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