Sacred Are Our Children. Poem by Osceola Waters

A miracle is created by love, between a man and a woman,
A woman blooms in beauty,
A new life developed,
A pair becomes one,
One and one make three,
Three hearts beat as little feet learn the rhythm,
A baby grows week by week,
Month by month,
Mother’s feels every move,
The fathers hand held upon his wife’s stomachs,
He connects to every move the baby makes,
A beautiful time turns into a sacred moment,
The mother delivers,
A miracle arrives,
He announces with a cry, I am here,
Excitement and tears of joy consume all the tribe,
Two people united in love and life complete the cycle,
This little bundle will be loved by all,
Protected and respected,
He has his feet in the medicine wheel,
His crawl will be followed by his step,
His development will revolve,
With inn the wheel his destiny is revealed,
With inn the wheel knowledge will become wisdom,
With inn the wheel courage will be found,
With inn the wheel humility will be discovered,
With inn the wheel charity uncovered,
As the seasons come and go and youth turns into an elder,
And sunrise turns into sunset,
And the circle becomes complete,
Your deeds are measured by others,
Your contribution, evaluated,
Debated,
You may be remembered,
Quietly respected,
Become a legend or completely forgotten,
What ever happens is up to you,
What ever happens will happen with inn the wheel,
Baby becomes a boy, boy becomes a man and man becomes reborn,
Birth and death necessary,
Go together like love and marriage,
A miraculous union and a grand departure,
With inn the wheel we return to an ovation,
A celebration,
We will tread with inn the wheel once more,
We come and go,
Century’s pass,
Changes come and go, but still the medicine wheel will turn.
My Vision my Dream Osceola Birdman Waters,
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