Somewhere in my heart, a lone drum beats.
The thunder of its spirit rages in the crimson rivers.
Memories long cloaked by the mists of forgetfulness,
led to ages of shadow and atonement
for I had promised never to forget.

Wars of the future are not wars of the past
and I am no longer innocent.
I cannot return to the darkness
for along the corridors of awareness
walks a pure Amazon spirit
existing in the dreams of my soul.

A Warrior of the ancient eras
She listened to the lamenting earth mother
calling to her daughters for remembrance.
A circle of sisters formed to right the wrongs
Their strength, honor, and courage
had restored the hope of the land.

As long as the lion's roar is heard on the wind,
The Nation's drum will never be still.
They will summon the ancient sleeping spirits
when the dark clouds of storm and torment brew.
A vow, their sacred promise that
the Amazons will rise to fight again.

Keeping the traditions of our ancestors
I receive you, my Amazon spirit.
I honor your sacrifices untold.
It is time for us to experience
what we thought we had forgotten.
We know, we join one to the other,
Our hearts beating as one.

I lift my eyes to the eastern horizon.
My voice sings out in welcome to my sisters,
Spirits of the Amazons, women of the circle.
Listen, I beg you, to the beat of the drum.
Let light of my campfire guide you
home.
 
 

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