The Kennewick Man Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

From dust of ages, a story sleeps,
Kennewick Man, where the river weeps.
Older than tales the textbooks spin,
A face that says, 'Our lives begin
Much further back, than you were told,
In lands we loved, brave and bold.'

The river whispers, the wind agrees,
Of ancient paths and rustling trees.
His bones, a map of journeys long,
A quiet echo, clear and strong.
He walked this earth, beneath the sun,
His life and ours, now woven one.

Not just a relic, cold and stark,
But ancestor, a guiding spark.
He challenges the words we read,
Plants seeds of doubt, new thoughts to breed.
The land remembers, the spirit sighs,
'Remember us, beneath these skies.'

So honor him, and understand,
The history sleeps within this land.
A tapestry of time unfurls,
Of Native sons and Native girls.
Kennewick Man, a whispered plea,
To cherish roots, for you and me.


T.M.Solvang