I have seen what this generation only reads about,

I have lived the life you can't imagine.

My childhood was nothing as it is in your movies,

but rather different in small ways.

In my days, we were considered outcasts on our own land.

That the very Earth from which we came, was no longer ours.

I remember the stares of judgment at my skin,

the dark brown color apparently a sin.

They took my brothers, said they would make 'savages' 'civil',

but the only savages where them.

As the years pasted, our people diminished,

the thriving days of the past where no more.

The play days spent exploring, running threw meadow fields,

had turned to days of silence, filled with the memories of what was.

I grew up before my time,

And as a young women in the new world I learned that life would never be fair,

That things that are different just don't belong.

The pride of the blood in my veins was reduced to an open shame.

Only now do I relise, by sinking so low, I was letting them trample us again.

I carried hundreds of years of history on my shoulders.

Each and every Native child has this very same treasure,

the gift to be one with all who once where.

To look deep inside and hear the voices of the past,

to hear the ancient beat of war drums, growing so familiar,

as if the silent song and your heartbeat became one.

I look on this land that we've learned how to share,

I think about all that has been.

The children of our people, they take this blood for granted.

Few feel the pride that once thrived within every native soul.

Now the half-breeds are shameful,

The full bloods to cocky.

The humble race we once were.. ah, those days are long past.

Will it ever be like it once was?

When those days where happy,

when all of Mother Nature was at peace?

Will I ever be able to look upon my people,

and smile for I know that all of us are one?

I ponder these thoughts as I look to the future.

Will we still be remembered in the end?

Will we become history?

Then legends?

Then myths?

Will all we fought for be at loss?

In 200 years, will we still stand up for all that's happened?

Will our race die out?

Will my story be heard?

I have told the stories of our people, I have lived the tale that's weaved.

I know the hardships the elders faced,

I know the troubles that burden our hearts today.

We don't want to be forgotten,

We don't want our great nation to become nothing but history.

Remember us,

The children of this earth, the heartbeats of mother sun.

Remember us,

We who helped build this grand nation.

Remember your Native brothers,

And we will remember you.