Sanctuary

The spirit of my ancestors tended the land of a Sanctuary.

It is my birthright as well,
but we are born prisoners of the Reservations.

So I am praying for escape.

An exile nation praying begs we succeed
The prayers of captives leak through the barriers
Using language yet too simple to suspect
Whispers...pictures...old songs...
Free us
Return us.
Let us return to the Sanctuary.
We prisoners dream.

From my youth, I have fled to you, for you comfort me.
I trailed upon your borders, where my dream becomes real.
Soon the soft cloak and silver eyes of night
Will give me leave to scout and forage
On the borders of the Sanctuary

So I balance Agony and Bliss, as best an exile can
I guard the memory of a heritage
Like a candle in the wind.
Blessed will I be
When my birthright is restored; when I may come and go
Free of all separations;
When the land, and I, and thee, are one.