Still Trying

to be a native american...just stand the wind cries... a sweet soft moan... the earth signs... a single solitary grown... i lift my arms... into the night... i beat my breast... i have that right... everything i was... everything i could be... ripped from my consciousness... lashed into misery... i call upon the stars... i call upon the moon... i call upon the ones... taken too soon... (my long hair flowed... her long hair danced... our love howled... we dared to chance...) and they that came... to TAKE what was not theirs... to trod underfoot... to not even care... but they cannot take the spirit... they cannot take the pride... they cannot make a people... lay down, stay down, die... my fathers lend their hands.. my mothers feed my soul... all i need do is stand... and i retain control... Luana Aleyice DeWitt-Smith 6/19/05, 5 pm