Canadian Spirit Voices
On Spirit Lake the voices flew
across the coves where forests grew,
tossing the fragrance of the sun
over the pines where spirits run.
Where spirits ran, they run today,
ancestors' voices up the spruce,
where paddlers camp but never stay
where eagles eye the rummaging moose,
where wolves and bears are born again
only to see their spring cubs slain,
where we encamped and they stormed in
and killed the last of our last kin.
Can you imagine what a surprise
when they see clarity in our dark eyes?
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