Painting by Jim Strong
Red Eagle
Red Eagle,
cold, dead, noble, Red Eagle.
Tomorrow they will bury you in the Black Hills.
They think you have left me forever.
When I grow lonely for you
I will walk into the night
and listen to your brother, the wind.
He will tell me if you want me.
I will follow the path through the forest
upon which your moccasins
have trod so many times.
I will hear the night sounds
you have told me about.
I will walk into the valley of Minnelosa,
the sweet grass.
In the white moonlight I will pray.
I will pray to the spirits
and they will speak to me,
as they have spoken to you before.
Then I will touch your tree
and you will softly whisper to me.
You will whisper to me,
Red Eagle,
Red Eagle,
upon the mountain.
Janet Campbell
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