San Jacinto

Thick clouds, steam rising. Hissing stone and sweat lodge fire. Around me buffalo robe. The sage in bundle, robin skin. Outside cold air. Stand, wait for rising sun. Red paint, eagle feathers. Coyote calling, it has begun. Something moving in. Taste it in my mouth and in my heart. It feels like dying. Slow. Letting go of life. Medicine man lead me up through time. Indian ground so far down. Color band, teach a fool. Kids wearing water wings, drinking Cool. Follow dry riverbed. Watch scouts and guides make powwow signs. Pass Geronimo's disco. Sitting Bull steakhouse, white man dream. A rattle in the old man's taxi. Look at mountaintop, keep climbing up. Way above us the desert snow. White wind blows. I hold the line. The line of strength that pulls me through the Fear. San Jacinto. I hold the line. San Jacinto. The poison light, the darkness dim my sight. I hold the line. And the tears roll down my swollen cheek. Think I'm losing it. Getting weaker. I hold the line. I hold the line. San Jacinto. Yellow eagle flies down from the sun. From the sun. We will walk On the land. We will breathe Of the air. We will drink From the stream. We will live. Hold the line. Hold the line. Hold the line. We will live. Hold the line. Hold the line. Hold the Line