A story poem telling a tale of protecting sacred hunting grounds |
Fifteen Horses 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 Hoka Hay!! It is a good day to die BlueThunder |