The heat of the sun.
The beat of the drum.
Bells tinging,
Jingles jingling,
Cow Bells ringing,
Children laughing,
Men singing,
A powwow.
An intertribal.
What flies over head?
A mystical friend.
The eagle came to join.
We danced as it flew over us.
It circled watching us from afar.
When it left,
We felt blessed.

Where is my Lil Sister? I saw her walking to school. I hear her silent whispers.  " I'm gone too soon! "
Mom drove to the store, and she didnt return. We still wait like always, with desperate heartburn.

OUR INDIGENOUS WOMEN ARE MURDERED AND MISSING!
North America and O Canada, No one cares to listen
So to our tribal Matriarchs, we say "Do  nada*."

Auntie walked into the woods, she wanted to get an herb.
Now we go where she stood, she hasnt been seen or heard.
Who took them away and why? We mourn their disappearance.
We ask Mother Earth and Father Sky for our Intertribal quest prominence.

Until they leave no more, and we stomp grass again together,
Our Sacred feminine core, Turtle Island's own precious Flower.