Native American Literature

Ghost Warriers By Donald Hook

Shadows dance on canyon walls, They are shadows from my fire.

And from these walls Ghost Warriors call "Your history is a liar."

"Our sacred lands were stolen and this we can't forget."

"The spirits of our warriors who gave their lives for it."

But the wind whispers to me that the shadows I see are visions of when the west was young.
And the Indian danced around his council fire where prayers to the Great Spirit were sung.

They asked the Great Spirit to guide them in this their troubled time.

For the white man walked upon their land and said "This land is mine."

It was the search for yellow iron that became the red man's curse.

For the white man swarmed upon their land each fighting to be first.

And no amount of prayers could stop the coming flood.

Soon the yellow iron was bathed in Indian blood.

The Great Spirit couldn't help them they had to fight alone.

For the mountains and the desert that had always been their home.

The Indian was defeated and just seemed to fade away.

And his sacred lands were ravished it seemed in but a day.

The mountains were blasted open; the gold ripped from beneath the earth.

The wounded land lies silent now and has but little worth.

The Indian is gone forever from this land that once was his.

And no one seems to want it now not the way it is.

So now that you know their story, will you listen to the whispering wind?

The ghosts of ancient warriors are singing their songs again.

They're singing to the Great Spirit their sad and mournful prayers.

Asking Him to make whole again this land that once was theirs.

Native American Message Reflection

This Native American piece creates in me an uncomfortable feeling of guilt regarding my white forefathers every time it is read. The overwhelming shame that I experience from this devastating occurrence makes me wish that the European settlers, my own ancestors, had left the Native Americans in peace. The sorrow conveyed by the Indian's account with the Great spirit helped me to grasp a Native's view on the destruction of thousands of years of tradition. The excerpt "Our sacred lands were stolen and this we can't forget, the spirits of our warriors who gave their lives for it" holds alot of meaing to me, for before I read this line I had no previous consideration for the ancient Indians warriors who had fought for this land, nor how unjust it was that the white men could just take it all away in will. Another line from this poem that really opened my eyes was when the author wrote "The mountains were blasted open; the gold ripped from beneath the earth, the wounded land lies silent now and has but little worth, the Indian is gone forever from this land that once was his, and no one seems to want it now not the way it is". This stanza reveals the opposing views the Natives and the settlers had on what is considered valuable, for as the settlers searched frantically for gold, they destroyed beautiful land that the Indians looked upon as sacred. Through powerful diction such as "blasted open", "ripped from earth" and "wounded land", I found myself hurting with the ruined land. In essence, this poem has expanded my view on the developement of our country to such an extent that I am almost ashamed to be considered apart of it, and with the little voice I have, all I can do is pray for forgiveness.

Native American Diary Entry

Diary,
Again we hiked further into the embracing winds of the West to make way for the ever-multiplying white men. There visit has been welcomed by the curiosity of our people, but one must wonder if the expansion of their camps will ever cease. Communication between our tribes is poor. Their gestures appear friendly, but many of their actions prove difficult to accept. With every strike the earth takes from their large spoons I wince, yet the resulting yellow rock the white men gain leaves me intrigued and mystified, wanting to know more. Maybe this new way of life is the path we are to follow, however, something about it does not stir well within my spirit. As I look around at my people I see a culture being lost, as the Great Spirit and its ancestral traditions are forgotten. I assume all there is to do is to wait and watch, until a clearer day arrives.
-Screaming Bird