In the misty Smokey Mountains,

where I lingered for a time.

Looking out over this great land,

how humanity could been unkind.

 

I could feel the Grandmothers,

who came and sat with me awhile.

The blessings of their love they give,

banished those things beguiled

 

Dwelling in a past now gone,

all of which is such a part of me.

How our people chose to live,

back before what you call history.

 

Through my Cherokee insight,

many visions then became so clear.

I felt grateful to the Sky Father,

For these treasures I hold dear.

 

Graceful Eagles that take flight,

soaring high in majestic pride,

My faithful companion appeared,

took his residence near my side.

 

The brilliant burst at sunrise,

powerful a mighty storm of thunder.

Rainbows soft delicate shaded color,

in all his wisdom such wonder.

 

Ripples of many waters,

flowing over rocks and stones.

Return of the giant sycamore tree,

holds many stories not known.

 

Burning of the sacred sweetgrass,

tossed upon the fires that glow.

Swirls of smoke rising upward,

caught up in winds that blow.

 

Then the spirits one by one,

begin to slowly drift away.

They are known as Cloud People,

on this earth they could not stay.

 

With the message they did bring,

each one touched my heart tender.

Reminding me they are within,

a promise I shall always remember.

11/05/00

copyright HairDark aka Katherine Raborn