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Native American/A Poem

Updated on November 5, 2012

Native American

On a painted horse the Indian rides, across desert plains our hearts collide.

Long black hair on sun kissed skin, an ancient warrior that lives within.

Dark brown eyes filled with tears, a race of people forgotten by the years.

The Cherokee dance gone like a flame, our heritage destroyed, just like our name.

Our familiar language taken away, cast from society, on the reservation we stay.

In our souls we are strong and free, a Native American I am proud to be.

Theresa Bauserman


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