Perhaps they're not just objects:
Like frogs in school one might dissect
But something more than bone
They are stitches in time sown
To bind the past.
Perhaps they're more than thought:
Not antiques to be sold or bought
Like coins or pottery
But carry in them ancient dignity
That can't be measured.
Perhaps it's more than language:
The smiling phrases about heritage
Or scorning the word `Indian'
And politely saying `Native American'
To have respect.
Perhaps it's more than superstition
That calls for cure by education
But breath from deeper human symbols
That man is truly transcendental,
Not just a clump of cells.