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LOST BLACK CROW
DAVE THE POET

Headed north, on twelve, Out of Gallup New Mexico
I came, To the town of Navajo
Hidden, On the reservation, Like a lost black crow
Since I passed through it, I can’t let it go
It touched a place, Deep in my soul
Forget it, I can’t, Why I don’t know
I’ve driven, Through many a small town
Most times I stop, Take a look around
At the edge of the town, Laid a factory
Long closed down, From what I could see
Leaving prayers and time, For local families
Now the streets lay quiet, The wind blows cold
On the sleepy little town, Of Navajo

What hope does a child find, In a place stuck in time
Soft and slow, The drum keeps a steady beat
While the squaw dance heals, Those in need
No matter what I see, Or where I go
I’ll always be haunted, By the town of Navajo

Babies sleep, While elders dance
Praying for rain, And a second chance
The thunder roars, Lighting crashes, Spirits appear, Talk real fast
They say, Ride out the storm, Respect mother earth
When she welcomes you home, For your rebirth
You will join your people, They will worship your soul
North of Window Rock, In the town of Navajo