The Truth Take Me
Back To The West Listen

The Truth

You pushed us down that dark cold trail,
where the old and young ones cried,
And said this land was forever ours,
but that was only lies.

You slew us at the Sand Creek ,
Washita and Wounded Knee,
Then gave us talking leaf promises,
that never came to be.

You tried to silence our Shamans,
but our Visions were worth the chance,
You chased us till we could not walk,
but you could not stop the dance.

You cannot kill the Power, the Earth,
no truer words were ever spoken,
For, we know if we are the Center,
the Circle of Life will not be broken.

So, when you come in search of us,
these sacred hills is where we are found,
Among the voices in the wind,
on this, our Holy Ground.
For you can slaughter our shadow-bodies,
bind our wings so we can’t fly,
But you can’t capture our Spirit,
and you can’t make us die.

~ © Debra Coppinger Hill ~

Take Me Back to the West

Take me back to the West
to a time when we did ride;
In perfect syncopation,
man and horse in flawless stride.

Take me back to the West
to the prairie open and free;
To buffalo, in grass so tall,
as far as the eye can see.

Take me back to the West,
let me breathe clean mountain air.
Let me see the azure sky
as if I’m standing there.

Take me back to the West
to herds of horses fat and slick;
To rolling seas of bluestem
no plow has yet to nick.

Take me back to the West
through poetry and song.
Give me that peaceful stillness
for which my soul does long.

Take me back to the West
to that place that holds my heart;
Tell me, always, I will stay;
and from it, never part.

~ © Debra Coppinger Hill ~


When the horses talk to me,
They tell me many things,
The whats and hows of yesterday,
Why the Nighthawk sings.

I learn the meaning of the dance,
Between animals and men,
They inspire me to take the chance,
To look back on where I’ve been.

On this plain where we live,
In the circle at the center,
We receive more than we give,
When privileged to enter.

So I close my eyes in Trust and walk,
And listen, to the horses talk.

~ © Debra Coppinger Hill ~

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