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Painting by
Davis Talmadge

I Be Tsalagi*

This morning I looked in the mirror,
I stared intensely at what I saw,
Trying to figure out if it was
My eyes, my nose or my jaw.
Maybe it's my ears, I thought,
or maybe it's my chin,
I'm sure that I will figure out
what is my "part' that is Indian.
Maybe it's my arms or hands
or some little internal gland,
I sure hope I can soon find out
what "part" is Indian.
You see to some that means a lot
to them it's a big deal,
So maybe it's my knees or toes
or maybe my left heel.
But, you see, I don't understand
what this "part" stuff means,
Because in my heart I know
just who and what I be.
That from the top of my Tsalagi head,
to the tip of my Tsalagi toes,
With every beat of my Tsalagi heart
Every fiber of me knows
That it is not the "degree of blood"
That makes me what I be.
It is the spirit of Tsalagi
that dwells within, you see.
So with every breath I take
I'm as sure as I can be
that I BE TSALAGI!!

(*Tsalagi= Cherokee)

In the darkness,
In the shadows,
Between the sunset
and the dawn.
Is a place
few are aware of,
Is a place
where few have gone.
It is a place
dark as the midnight,
It is a place
bright as the day.
It is a place
of buried memories,
Where hopes and dreams
are stored away.
It is a place
where truth cannot be hidden
It is a place
where lies cannot be told.
It is the place
where life begins,
It is the dreamland of the soul.

Marty Soaring Eagle
copyright..Jan..2003

"Free"

There are those who seek a path
they were not meant to walk,
There are those who want to hear things
of which it is not meant to talk,
There are those who want to learn
things they are not meant to know,
There are those who want to see
things that we cannot show.
Too many are so busy
Trying to be what they are not,
That they never learn and enjoy
the heritage they have got.
They dress up in "regalia",
They put feathers in their hair,
They put teepees in their backyards,
and have "Indian" jewelry to wear.
But they just don't understand,
they don't seem to comprehend,
That it is none of those things
that make you an "Indian".
For what you are is what
the Creator meant you to be,
And until you learn that truth
you never can be free.
Free to live the life
that you were meant to live,
Free to experience the joy
that walking your path can give.
So stop trying to be something else
and then you will be free,
To enjoy this thing called life
by being what you
were meant to be.

Marty Soaring Eagle
copyright Jan, 2003

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