A story poem telling a tale of protecting sacred hunting grounds
Fifteen horses rode this day
Across wide open dancing prairie grass
Each horses mane dappled silver
Through Grandmother suns sweet golden rays
Brave warriors kept their pace
Not sure of what fate they might face
Fearless war horses thundered on
To the enemy's village and beyond.
The night before they danced and prayed
Sang their death songs before the raid
The warriors smudged, War ponies were painted
Eagle feathers adorned their manes and tails.
The women said their farewells,
Praying to the Great Spirit to guide them home
Cries, wails, and trills came morning light
As the warriors circled and rode out to fight.
Never knowing which of their men might fall,
Taking that fateful journey to the spirit world
Knowing that their sacred ground and hunting land
Must be protected, Survival, The spirits called.
Warriors were painted, each showing his rank
Shields, lances, arrows, and bows
Medicine bundles worn around their necks, close
To defend and cherish their gift of Mother Earth
The time had come, the invading tribe near
Thundering hooves crested the high bluffs
The enemy below ran for their weapons and mounts
Arrows were nocked, all were prepared
For battle to begin at the lift of a staff
Arrows flew, war clubs were lifted, shields,
Lances all did their jobs against the enemy mobs
As the war regalia beads and quills shined.
Dust flew, the ground soaked red,
Warriors slung low alongside of their brave horses
Using a shield as they let arrows fly
From under the brave steeds necks.
Fearless war horses thundered on with speed
Each preforming their duty and deed
The warriors war cries sounded, loud and high
Death songs could be heard as a few rode by
The Creator looked down that day
The spirits converged, deciding who would live
And who would die, who would win, who would loose
As tradition laid a hand, upon this land.
The battle pursued into mid afternoon
No deaths this day, but many wounded
The enemy retreated, carrying their dead
They had won this day, at least for now
Their sacred grounds were safe,
And hunting lands secure
Bloody, dusty, weary, and dazed
The fearless war horse carried them home.
That night as the village fire burned bright
A runner came bringing the news
The women all ran, to find their man,
And to see if he would return,
Or Spirits took him to the feathered lodges above
The women trilled high and long
as they ran to their men seeing them return
Smiles and relief, they cared for the weak.
Every warrior returned that night,
The tales were told around the fire light
A great feast was prepared, the wounded taken care
For now they were safe and sound
But always knew another enemy would abound
Another battle, another day
It is a good day to die