I feel the strength of your will
Blowing through leaves
Darkened from the collapsed sun
Pushing your heat across the ground
The crack of your heavenly voice
Rumbling like an avalanche of stone
I stand facing your boiling mass
Rising above the silent earth
Filling my body with anticipation
The wind brings the smell of you
From the distance you make promises
To the parched mother earth with
Her gaping cracked lips she begs
For your anger and the sweet salvation
Of earth and sky making up their differences

My clothes feel awkward on my skin
I yearn to bare my flesh to your forces
To stand before you as I once did
Before the fall of our kind
Where we forgot to sing to the wind
Lost the way to talk to the sky
As I lean into the breast of your wind
I close my eyes to man
Opening my heart to nature
Lifted by your deep heavenly voice
I remember the beginning

I stand on the prairie with my Brothers
Sisters and Mothers and you my Father
My long hair black flowing free
Black as the night that follows you
My skin wears the mark of the sun
And the wisdom of my people
With my hands held high
I reach for you Wakan Tanka
My heart beats a soul drum
With the dance of a people
Who have not forgotten the way

My feet move with a rhythm
Of my mothers love
As she accepts my foot falls in praise
She rises up to meet them
Raising me higher to you
We feel your spirit rushing to us
Brought to us on a stallion wind
Taking our spirits on a wild ride
Through your flashing sky

As the first small drops touch my skin
Our voices go up like a cloud of smoke
A prayer of many voices in thanks
Rolls behind the thunder of One
That has not forgotten to cry
For what man was nor what he will become
A rapist of Mother earth blackening the sky
Hoping God can not see what he has done

And now
As the gift of your love gently
Touches my upturned face
I open my tear stained eyes
Again in this world we now know
Feeling synced with the earth still
I quickly close my eyes once more
To feel the raindrops of old on my skin
And I feel the drum beat in my veins
As my feet begin to move
And I hear the voices of a forgotten people
Talking to God while waiting for the rain
Where love still existed for a Mother
And hands still reached high for a Father
Now this is how you make it rain

Tony Wilder © 2012