A Shakespearean sonnet (INDIAN REIN) by .Amber Barbour

Honesty is like a foreign friend

A friend that’s been lost in time

Shunned from the written word again

Unwritten but spoken, body language can mend

Unkind aren’t the lie’s, Sadness comes from loss

Honesty do tell your story, though you are voiceless

Still I hear your still whispers through the wind,
the trees, fields of lavender alive as a breeze,transcends like a
tribal trance.. and vibrations of morality in a distant chant.

No more will you be voiceless, with no choices

Native lands are not native any more

We are the animals, the courageous, and the forgotten

A spirit unbroken, from honesty impure

Redemption is realization,acknowledging our part and
place

Honesty will cleanse these hands,but not today

That time will only come, when there are no more
words left to say.