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 The Legend of Sara De Sota

By Lance Roy



the land of sunlit waters, where legends weave,

Chichi-Okobee, the Seminole chief, believed,

His blood, a river flowing, his warriors bold,

Stood 'neath the sun, their story to be told.


Before the camp of Do Soto, great and white,

Two worlds collided in the morning light.

Helmets gleaming, blades drawn near,

A prince stood, unyielding, without fear.


"Peace," spoke Chichi, palm raised high,

A surrender to the chief, beneath the sky.

Taken, bound, through the Everglades they roamed,

A captive prince, his destiny intoned.


No murmur escaped his princely lips,

A willing captive, love's yearning eclipse.

For Sara, fair daughter of the white chief,

He'd tread the swamps, endure all grief.


But illness struck, the fever's cruel bite,

Chichi weakened, lost in the Everglades' might.

Physicians' efforts, all in vain,

Sara, the princess, suffered a similar pain.


Ahti, the medicine man, Chichi sought,

Through swamps and shadows, his strides were wrought.

Incantations, herbs, and smoke in the air,

Ahti's powers matched, a princess in despair.


Chichi raced, like the deer of the wild,

Through tropic trees, a grieving child.

One moon, then another, hope and despair,

Chichi stood outside Sara's tent, in silent prayer.


The flap flapped idly; the message was clear,

Sara was gone, the Great Spirit near.

De Soto's daughter, a vision of grace,

Chichi poured forth love, face to face.


A burial request, a chosen bay,

To lay Sara to rest, far away.

Permission granted, a mournful plea,

Chichi vowed a guard, a hundred, strong and free.


Canoe after canoe, like a funeral fleet,

Sara laid to rest, her fate complete.

Warriors, bedecked, a solemn sight,

Tomahawks flashed in the sun's harsh light.


Chichi's war bonnet, a sweeping plume,

His jasper-tipped spear, dispelling gloom.

The bay, Sarasota, peaceful and still,

Witnessed love's tale, a warrior's skill.


With white bay flowers and her raven hair,

Sara descended, an offering so rare.

Quivers full, a hundred braves,

Silent waters, their journey paves.


A war chant rose, mysterious and deep,

Tomahawks crashed, the spirits to keep.

The bay, a mirror of steel, told the lore,

Of Chichi-Okobee and Sara forevermore.


Elders speak of spirits in eternal fight,

Guarding the bay from storms, through day and night.

Sarasota Bay, a legend in repose,

Where love and warriors' spirits compose.

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