CHANNILLO

The Falcon
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June 1976.

 

Calling to the falcons circling above,

I noticed a broken piece in the sky,

That only one being can fill the void of.

I asked the ancestors who I was before?

But they only told me of my friend,

The one who cried on the forest floor.

Sitting Bull had met his end,

But now he sits with us again. 

I’m trying to figure out what he has to say,

He speaks through him in an unusual way.

Does he want us to find an entirely different path?

 

Falcons fly high above,

We will propel him with our love.

I may find my answer in my heart,

Or in some unfamiliar part. 

 

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