The Indians danced,
a long time ago,
Waters were clean, green grass grew,
The Indians danced, the wild wind blew,
The land was flourishing, before me and you.
The Indians romped,
no reservations then,
Remember when -
The Indians had a home,
And they called it their own,
AND They called it ALL their OWN.

Now, strawberries turned to gray,
And the Indian stands and looks.
And his silence is thunder, pain,
Not written in history books.

The Indians danced, their dance is gone,
Took 'way their home, their freedom, song.
Laid them to rest, in polluted streams,
In shrouded skies,
The Indian dreams.
The Indian cries
the Indian dies,
Like the lies,
of Peace!

1971 By Linda A. Copp ©

This Poem was written during the
Frank's Landing incidents in Washington State,
when Native Americans were denied fishing rights granted to them by
treaties with the United States government.
In this struggle for survival of Native ways many were killed.

Native American Indians are not extinct.
They, like their Great Spirit, are waiting to share their history and their culture.
To learn more about Native Americans we recommend you click on links below!

BuffySainte Marie