YELLOW HAWK'S FLUTE 
 
 
 
I see the tepee silhouetted against the setting sun 
The scent of burning cedar wood is in the air 
Yellow Hawk's flute has a celestial sound 
It rises above the rhythm of the drums 
 
The drums keep time with the heartbeat of Mother Earth 
My spirit rises with the melody of the flute 
It travels above the trees and beyond the purple hills 
It soars with the spirit of the eagle to the land of ancient birth 
 
I walk the sacred ground where holy men have tread 
Across the shadow lands on a pale moonlit night 
The canyons of time crumble like sand in my hands 
I am but a dark movement in the valley of the dead 
 
I travel down the river and follow the sacred light 
The serpent watches as I go deep into the darkness 
He will not follow for I am on a sacred journey 
I am hungry…I eat the bittersweet fruit of the tree of life 
 
There is a fire in my belly and a fever in my soul 
The purity of the Creator is like a thick blanket on a winter's night 
The passion of my flesh is like a consuming fire in the desert 
I am naked in the belly of the earth and I am cold 
 
The Creator wraps his blanket of purity around me 
The blanket is consumed in the flames of my passion 
The smoke rises from the desert like a pure white cloud 
The Creator and I are one…I am free  
 
The sound of Yellow Hawk's flute rises above the sacred hills 
The tepee is silhouetted against the campfire 
Mother Earth's heart is pounding like a drum 
And I know all that is-is that which is real 
 
 
Copyright May 29, 2002 Gerald Odom/Spanky Mongo