Rise with the Sun
Arms lifted to the breaking sky,
She calls not for herself,
But for the earth beneath her feet,
For the rivers, for the flowers in bloom.
The sun answers in colors—
Red, gold, violet, flame—
A promise that the land lives on,
As long as hearts remember.
Birds spiral in light,
Messengers of hope,
Carrying her song across the hills,
Across the cactus and stone.
No battle cry, no war drums—
Only quiet strength rising like dawn:
We are still here.
We will always be here.
#nativeamericanwisdom
Rise with the Sun
Arms lifted to the breaking sky,
She calls not for herself,
But for the earth beneath her feet,
For the rivers, for the flowers in bloom.
The sun answers in colors—
Red, gold, violet, flame—
A promise that the land lives on,
As long as hearts remember.
Birds spiral in light,
Messengers of hope,
Carrying her song across the hills,
Across the cactus and stone.
No battle cry, no war drums—
Only quiet strength rising like dawn:
We are still here.
We will always be here.
#nativeamericanwisdom
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