A Lament

Chief Pontiac

(1720-1769)

Renowned Native American Chief

of Ottawa people

A Lament

I raise my hands and face the heavens
Is there a God to hear my plea
To save my people from extinction
And let them roam free?

Just as parched earth awaits the pouring rain
We long for your kind decree
To chase away the evil doers
Who take our land and souls with glee.

This land was ours for ever so long
For many years as we could see
The buffaloes, the prairies and the rivulets too
Have lived here in harmony.

Our way of life, our song and dance
And our folklore held the key
Which bound every soul with this grass and earth
For many moons you'd agree.

These strangers come from far away
Across the boundless sea
With smoking guns, they shoot and loot
And make us forever flee.

Cruel, this place called outside world
Which brings illness and killing spree
Ask any Indian squaw or brave
Be it Cheyenne, Pawnee or Cree.

This misery is not what was promised
By our bygone chiefs, but we
Would live with nature in peace and joy
And our future guaranteed.

How long do we yearn and pray
Oh, God, let us ride free
We will thank you for the mercy
And happiness that would be.

~ Krishna ~

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