The Dream Walker

Illustration for a poem. 

This poem is copyrighted to Tony Hall, 2008

I walk with the spirits of the dead, in the land of my ancestors. 

We fish in the leaping waters that speak of their journey from the snows. 

I hear that voices of the trees that tell of a time before I was born. 

We walk softly on the leaves that are given to feed new life. 

I am not alone. My wolf brother walks with me. 

I have no fear for we are one blood, one spirit bound with another in the Great Spirit who watches over all. 

The dead speak of a time when all the earth was good, when the mountain tops were capped with snow and rivers ran clear, 

When the plains were thick with buffalo like the stars in the sky and hunting was easy. 

They moved through the forests and the grass like the soft wind, leaving no trace but their thanks to the Great Spirit. 

They show me where the men came from the East and cut down the trees.

I see bare hills and good earth washed away by the rains that come too soon. 

They show me the mountains and I see the snow melt and flood the valleys

They take me to the plains where no creatures live, where the sun has baked the earth

And I see children hunger. 

The spirits of the dead weep for their land and what has been done to it by the white man. 

One day the Ghost Dancers will cry out across this land and new life will come from the North. 

The Great wind will bring a new earth and the trees will grow again. 

Silver waters will feed the land and fish will leap in the sunlight. 

Buffalo will roam the plain and children will have full bellies. 

Men will be at peace with the land and the Great Spirit will fill their hearts with wisdom. 

But until that time comes I walk with my Wolf Brother on the wind and dream.