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           Painted Rocks

Some say the painted rocks,
Are only in one place,
But the chosen few will know,
Of many without a trace.
Cherished and protected,
For generations yet unborn,
Ancient secrets kept,
From destruction by evil scorn.
Don't scratch the belly,
Of the snake,
Or the spirits displeasure,
You will take.
The ancients had visions,
Come out of their head,
They painted their visions,
On the rocks in bright red.
With their secret red paint,
Pictures there for all time,
They prophesied for the future,
For generations like mine.
Pray to the four,
And the water spirit too,
If you honor the grandfathers,
They will honor you.
So tobacco, cloth, and food,
Gifts to offer in this place,
And to yourself keep the secret,
Of painted rocks without a trace.
Poca'sPoems
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music: Distant Drums