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Driving Through the Reservation
rolling hills seemed to skip into the beyond,
the sky could swallow me at any point,
and the clouds were just beyond my fingertips,
and the ocean of green swayed in a great wind.
this was the great peace that so many acclaim,
but i didn't see a free world left open;
i saw a great beauty sliced by the claws of society.
i travelled upon the road that cut the sea in two,
fenced animals all around that many marked "wild"
i saw a great culture so deeply rooted in the land
desperately cling to the past as the future tugged them,
a people crushed between two ideals,
ripped at its core and broken at its heart,
and yet they never let go, never stop hoping.
a free people enclosed by a world marked free
that fought piercing bullets of materialism
with the sharp edges of axes forged by humility.
as long as the hills still roll,
as long as the sky lays big and the clouds close,
and the ocean still tides in shades of green,
their spirit shall forever roam this country,
never restricted by fences or roads.
that, is freedom.