Little Deer Running

Little Deer Running

Her trail of tears ran deep
It seemed always the soul knew thirst
Moccasins left driven prints
As freedom fell behind
Pride rode a phantom horse
Upon a land no longer theirs
It was the Moon of Moving Shadows

Riders watched from high fields
As wagons lurched broken paths
Across frozen meadows
Little Deer Running ran…
His eyes followed his mother’s steps
Star Rivers tried to pace them
He ran, weaving through the forest
A small warrior, adoring her face
For he was the light he saw in it

Thousands were lost on that journey
Even death is kind at times
Taking them gently from the desperate cold
Into a warm bosom of peace
When the fever came, she held him
Chanting in mournful moan
Until he was lifted up
His small pyre left burning
As they moved on

Her valleys filled with stones of despair
She climbed pyramids of pain
Asleep, she dreamed him home
Running always on strong golden feet
Proud of his Indian heritage
He embraced the mysteries it held

She called upon The Great Spirit of Good
To end her soul’s desolation
And when the sun backslid into that night
It was as if her prayer could never end
Her bronze arms lifted upward to the sky
She had shaped her destiny with love
Midst myriad stars her mother’s cry
Still being heard
Still being heard