Smoke filled the air as we took our teepee down. We make our way from the mountains The hunt was good The meat is smoking, Drums the only sound.
Now to contemplate the reasons. We sit near the fire glow. Knowing the change of season , will soon bring the winter snow. Now we make our camp where the river flows.
Yellow Moon is coming soon said something about a war. Said the buffalo has been cut down. White man leaving them to bleed on the ground. Instead of feeding the poor.
Yellow Moon spoke of how they infest the land.Destroying all that touches their hand. How they mock mother earth forcing our beliefs to hault. Bringing there disease. Saying our God is at fault.
Leaving us a barren land. where only cactus grow.So I guess it's time we take a stand. Time to string our bows. I hear the horses coming and soon will be the end. Children running hiding. Only hear screams on the wind.
The battle over. the dead scattered across our land. Blood now feeds the fields. I feel something warm as it drips from my hand. I hear my heart as a distant drum, coming to it's close. And death the only freedom this warrior knows.
Originally Posted On Site: 2008-11-26 17:50:36
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