The wind blows softly through the grass,
Of yellow, brown and gold.
They sway in Tribute for those lost,
Their mournful stories unfold.
The path that leads up to the hill,
Where buried families lay.
Echoes the sounds of horses hoofs,
The ground feels to this day.
The graves-------all still------and yet-----
Of voices through the air.
Those cries you hear------they're not the wind,
Souls asking you to care.
You stand there-------still------as voices cry,
The tears begin to flow.
You feel their pain and sorrow deep,
Great Mystery's name------you call.
The Eagles cry from Sacred Sites,
Their screams heard far and wide.
Do not forget-------what happened here!
Lest history tries to hide.
The heart connects with Spirits deep,
To join them in their prayer.
They plead to mend the Circle now,
All Nations -----hands joined-----to care
The Prayer Ties wave with gentle winds,
To join the swaying grass.
All Earth responds with prayers of hope,
For peaceful souls at last..