The Indian village seemed quiet, With its tents lined in a row Asleep, yet I knew I was dreaming, Of a time...so long ago. I saw an Indian maiden, With her papoose upon her back. Washing clothes at the riverbank, Then placing them in a sack. After a while, I saw children, Making little dolls from beads. Some Indians were plowing the ground, And carefully...planting seeds. Their horses with tails a swaying, Were fastened to a large post. I could smell the delicious aroma, Of meat simmering...as it roast. I saw a group of young braves, Carry a deer...with an arrow in its side. Back...from hunting for their people, On each face was a look of pride. I felt such a peace and love, As I watched them living their life. In this dream..I remember thinking, How we brought them so much strife. It was their land that we invaded, Where they labored to make their home. But...it was greedily taken from them, Causing those Indians....to roam. It's no wonder they became bitter, And so ready ...to attack. They wanted what was rightfully theirs, And fought....to get it back. After waking from my dream, I had such a compassion inside. And thinking of our forefathers, I felt shame..I couldn't hide. The rest....we know as history, To them...restitution we gave. I myself hold great respect for, Those Indians...the proud and brave! ©1998 Judith Johnson Kypta http://poetrypoem.com/judithjohnsonkypta http://anhourwithyou.com/ http://www.wrensworld.com/wwnew.htm NO Permission Is Given To Direct Link To My Graphics Above To 'Any' Persons Artwork -  Poem - Music   Used with permission.  Works may not be reproduced, distributed or displayed in any way without written permission from All Artists Please  Honor  the Artists Copyright  Laws.    All Rights Reserved  © 1999-2008