Return of the Sacred Dance

Return of the Sacred Dance

Fathers circle ‘round the drum
Taking turns, they keep the beat
The only sound, this-man made thunder
Deep and solid, pounding feet.

In dreams, Creator whispers clear
Young father, keep this sound alive
Inside your chest, when its forbid
Remember this, for we must thrive.

Young father did not want to see
His son denied this sacred chance
To celebrate his boyhood end
And take his place within the dance.

Before the honored day drew near
The white man’s law, the dance forbid,
The father saw now what to do
He taught his son all that he knew

Decades passed without reprieve
A culture grasping for each breath
But a young man kept the dream alive
To teach the old way till his death

Fathers circle ‘round arenas
Taking turns watching their sons
While Native Americans demonstrate
The way the sacred dance was done.

With mixed up shields and moccasins
Of different tribes on him adorned
The old man tells stories of dances
Almost lost by white man’s scorn

The last to know from his own clan,
He shares with young and old 
He does not care if blood or kin,
As long as what he knows is told.

He calls for dancers to the circle
In comes a white boy, of eight or nine
following each and every step,
the pounding drumbeat as his guide.

A tear comes to the old man’s eyes,
Remembering his father's rhythmic beat
He shows this boy to drum and dance
And knows the circle's now complete.


SWPoet

To Will, my son of seven, who feels the drumbeat in his soul.