Written by Ann LeFlore in memory of my Grandfather who is Sioux Indian.
Standing here so proud and fear
Staring at the lands before my eyes
The freedom was once mine
Today trapped inside
This compound space
Roaming lands freedom at hand
Making our homes under the stars
The moon shone down upon
Our lands and stars danced
Above our heads
Our forefather’s came before
Protecting the lands for all to come
Hunting what was needed
To feed the tribes and children
Thanking the God’s
For the food of the lands
The medicine man told
Of the great white boats
To invade our lands
And we would loose all hope
They came in tribes
White as could be
Forked tongs for all to see
Promising the peace
From some God above
Striping our lands
Killing all before our eyes
Trapping us in a barren space
No where to escape
The massacre came
Without a trace
The white man rode up
To take our space
They shot and killed
All before our eyes
Leaving us to bury
Our family and wives
Taking our lands
Stripping our freedom
Leaving in its place
Cold and hunger
For all to embrace
Our sacred lands no more
Shed with blood and disease
Leaving all to beg and plead
Giving us the spirits to fill our souls
Drunk in this toxic state
Without having a fate
Nowhere to run
Our lands no more
The white man came
As the legend was told
They stole our lands
Our food and freedom
Leaving us broken
Our pride to hide
Deep inside waiting
For the chance to
Take back our lands
But the white man is here
To leave no more
They stole our lands
And invaded our shores
The freedom they spoke of
Was not for us to see
We are prisoners in our lands
Where we were meant to be free
