I come from little-known greatness.

Bury My Legs

Bury my legs where the long days shine,
Where the tall hopes calmly graze;
Bury my eyes where the air is sweet
With a tawny, summer haze.
Bury my eyes where the grass is cool
As the fruit that drops from the tree;
Bury my eyes in Kokomo,
And I shall wake up and see.

Bury my arms beneath the trees
Whose limbs are reaching down;
Bury my arms with my memories,
In fertile soil and brown;
Bury my arms where the joy I've known
Cannot depart the land;
Bury my arms where my heart still lives,
And not in eastern sand.

Bury my legs in the fields I've walked
In laughter and in pain;
Bury my legs in the fragrant earth,
Washed by young green rain;
Bury my legs where there's room to run,
And a goal that's worth the running;
Bury my legs in Kokomo - 
I'm coming home, I'm coming.

- Ann Kilcrin Ward