| Many mountains I have seen, leading trails of prideful dreams that are hidden and unseen; lurking in the grassy meadows calling to great spirit. A time of past I have not forgot because sometimes the pain pulls at my heart. Healing bundles never torn, mending the pieces that were raped and torn apart, forgiveness from our hearts we speak loud and repeat, not looking back; the crossroads of oppression, misery, and strife.
The crossroads that lay to rest, also a reminder of our history that allows us to look up and keep moving foreward without the ragging wars, that seen us different and pleaded no more as changing our faces, stripped of who we were, not allowed to be ourselves, but disgrace no more. Our sacred spirit will always move on; you can hear it in the drum beat of our songs which hold great pride.
Hearts that stand, even from long ago; silly little misunderstandings left at those crossroads. We have a voice full with beauty and all great things, we walk with heart that will always be, the proud true warriors of grandest pride, knowing who we are deep inside. We protect with honor upon the land we share, truth always given with speechful words of peaceful prayers.
Dia M. Aliah Gardner-Martin