The buffalo meant a lot of different things to most
of America's Native People's. They were food and clothing,
tools and utinsels, and most of all a Spirit Being blessing
the peoples with everything they needed to survive.


With tears of sadness sprinkling the ground,
We gaze across the valley that used to be a sea of brown.

But now the land is still, all that’s left of the mighty one,
Is their wasted scattered bones, bleaching in the sun.

Slaughtered for their meat, coveted for their hide,
It makes our heart heavy and sad, at the reason the buffalo died.

They gave our people life; they sustained us through the years,
Now, all that is left, are their memory and our tears.