deepundergroundpoetry.com

Choctaw Cherokee

I channel it often
without even trying
feeling the reservation
beating history's
drum of time

Dust devils swirling
around moccasins
summer heat distorting distance
into fractured particles  
across the Blue Ridge

Winter's stillness
under a Moon so engorged
children believed
it was pregnant with snow

We lived simply; rose early
knew our purpose
honored our daily duty
to the tribe as a whole

Never had money
but lacked for nothing
through sharing and trade

This poem is simple
uncomplicated
as the bloodline of a life  

I channel it often
without even trying
feeling the reservation
beating history's
drum of time  

And often wonder
If we'll ever find our way back again
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