Thread: Sitting Atop a Giant of Hills

Sitting Atop a Giant of Hills
~Isaiah Lake

Sitting atop
A giant of hills
I look down below
At a valley of mist

Reaching far and wide
Its plains do not hide
Their wonderful, vast,
And beautiful pride

Look far below
Where yesterday, I rode
Along landscape of
The most beautiful abode

Wonderful, vast,
And beautiful pride
I have no words
To aptly describe

My journey is long
Not much, I’ve not seen
I live out my life
A long, winding dream

Today I watch plains
Of vast majesty
But last week I gave
A native man beads

We sat in his lodge
And shared his long pipe
I fellowshipped with
The chief of a tribe

Outside of his tent
Children played games
And women wove cloth
On that bright, cheerful day

Smoke in the air
Tobacco in flare
The peace of a village
No foreign affairs

If only they knew
That men such as I
Would reach out white hands
To snuff out their lives

We took their land
For personal gain
We don’t give a thought
Of their suffering and pain

Men and women
And children alike
We poured out their blood
Vivid and bright

Red Georgia clay
Coincidence not
The color of blood
That spilled on that day

I tell you again
My life is a dream
A long and winding nightmare
It seems

But sorrow I hold
As I look down below
Because I won’t wake
From this nightmarish dream

All too real
And horrid it seems
The story I tell
No joke certainly

Wonderful, vast,
And beautiful pride
We took it from them
At the cost of their lives

This is a Native American poem that I wrote for a contest at the Booth museum in Georgia.

wow, truly beautiful - yet sad and touching all at once brilliant work

Thanks! I recently discovered that I really like poetry, and it's encouraging to hear that it's half way descent.