My Best Friend
I ask for a flower,
He gave me a garden.
I ask for a tree,
He gave me a forest.
I ask for a river,
He gave me an ocean.
I ask for a friend,
He gave me you!!
Thank you, God
Oh, Great Spirit
Let your voice whisper righteousness in our ear
through the vast wind in the late of the day.
Let us be comforted with love
for our brothers and sisters with no war.
Let us hold good health, mentally and physically,
to solve our problems and accomplish something
for future generations of life.
Let us be sincere to ourselves and our youth
and make the world a better place to live.
A prayer of the American Indian
A Dreamcatcher for Runningbear... May they all come true for you!
THE LORD'S PRAYER IN CHEROKEE LANGUAGE
Ogidoda galvladi hehi, galvgwdiyu gesesdi dejado?v?i.
Jagvwiyuhi gesv wigananugo?i. Ahni elohi winigalsda hadanhtesgv?i, nasgiya
galviadi jinigalsdiha. Nidadodagwisv ogalsdayhdi sgi?vsi kohl iga. Digesgi?vsigwuhno
desgitugv?i, nasgiya jidigayojineho jojitugi. Ale hlesdi udagoliyediyi
gesv widisgiyatinvstanvgi, sgiyudalesgesdigwusgini uvo gesv?i. I Jajeligayheno
Jagvwiyuhi gesv?i, alel jahlanigidiyu gesv?i, ale ejalvgwdiyu gesv nigohilv?i.
THE NATIVE AMERICAN PRAYER
Oh Great Spirit, whose voice I hear in the winds, and
breath gives life to all the world - hear me - I come before you,
one of your children. I am small and weak. I need your strength and wisdom.
Let me walk in beauty and make my eyes ever behold the red and purple
Make my hands respect the things you have made, my ears sharp to hear
Make me wise, so that I may know the things you have taught my People,
the lesson you have hidden in every leaf and rock. I seek strength not
be superior to my brothers, but to be able to fight my greatest enemy,
Make me ever ready to come to you, with clean hands and straight eyes,
so when life fades as a fading sunset, my spirit may come to you without
The American Indian is of the soil, whether it be the region of forests,
plains, pueblos, or mesas. He fits into the landscape, for the hand that
fashioned the continent also fashioned the man for his surroundings.He
once grew as naturally as the wild sunflowers. He belongs, just as the
Luther Standing Bear
From One Friend To Another... Friends Forever!!
Pencil Sketching by Runningbear
From one friend to another, Runningbear
(This picture speaks a thousand words)
The Neverending Trail
by Abe "Del" Jones
We whites honor the "Hermitage"
And the man who once lived there -
But, that leader of our Nation
Was cruel, unjust, unfair -
He ordered the removal
Of the Cherokee from their land
And forced them on a trek
That the Devil must have planned -
One thousand miles of misery -
Of pain and suffering -
Because greed of the white man
Could not even wait till spring -
We should bow our heads in shame
Even unto this day
About "The Trail Of Tears"
And those who died along the way.
It was October, eighteen thirty-eight
When seven thousand troops in blue
Began the story of the "Trail"
Which, so sadly, is so true -
Jackson ordered General Scott
To rout the Indian from their home -
The "Center Of The World" they loved -
The only one they'd known -
The Braves working in the fields
Arrested, placed in a stockade -
Women and children dragged from home
In the bluecoats shameful raid -
Some were prodded with bayonets
When, they were deemed to move too slow
To where the Sky was their blanket
And the cold Earth, their pillow -
In one home a Babe had died
Sometime in the night before -
And women mourning, planning burial
Were cruelly herded out the door -
In another, a frail Mother -
Papoose on back and two in tow
Was told she must leave her home
Was told that she must go -
She uttered a quiet prayer -
Told the old family dog good-bye -
Then, her broken heart gave out
And she sank slowly down to die -
Chief Junaluska witnessed this -
Tears streaming down his face -
Said if he could have known this
It would have never taken place -
For, at the battle of Horse Shoe
With five hundred Warriors, his best -
Helped Andrew Jackson win that battle
And lay thirty-three Braves to rest -
And the Chief drove his tomahawk
Through a Creek Warrior's head
Who was about to kill Jackson -
But whose life was saved, instead -
Chief John Ross knew this story
And once sent Junaluska to plead -
Thinking Jackson would listen to
This Chief who did that deed -
But, Jackson was cold, indifferent
To the one he owed his life to
Said, "The Cherokee's fate is sealed -
There's nothing, I can do."
Washington, D.C. had decreed
They must be moved Westward -
And all their pleas and protests
To this day still go unheard.
On November, the seventeenth
Old Man Winter reared his head -
And freezing cold, sleet and snow
Littered that trail with the dead
On one night, at least twenty-two
Were released from their torment
To join that Great Spirit in the Sky
Where all good souls are sent -
Many humane, heroic stories
Were written 'long the way -
A monument, for one of them -
Still stands until this day -
It seems one noble woman
It was Chief Ross' wife -
Gave her blanket to a sick child
And in so doing, gave her life -
She is buried in an unmarked grave -
Dug shallow near the "Trail" -
Just one more tragic ending
In this tragic, shameful tale -
Mother Nature showed no mercy
Till they reached the end of the line
When that fateful journey ended
On March twenty-sixth, eighteen thirty-nine.
Each mile of this infamous "Trail"
Marks the graves of four who died -
Four thousand poor souls in all
Marks the shame we try to hide -
You still can hear them crying
Along "The Trail Of Tears"
If you listen with your heart
And not with just your ears.