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Rated: E · Poetry · Inspirational · #973602
The Great Spirit is sad over mankind's inability to live with each other in peace.
The ancient sun beats down
on a people bronzed by generations of toil and
despair
Hardship
and hatred of those not their own
The arid landscape of this life
pours its venom
into their veins.
Until they lie,
choking, one by one
At the hands of those
who only wish their extinction.
...or so they believe.
'Pte Ta Tiyopa'
Gate of the Buffalo
Awaits their return
And only those who are with the People
Whose blood, like that of the Forefathers
runs hot, with cries of war against the enemy.
Warriors with words,
Exterminators with pens
Medicine Men of the Soul -
only they will be allowed entrance through the
gate
'These are now my children?'
sighs the Great Spirit
As the Tears of the Sun
flow like bitter rain
Over the hearts of all mankind
For though they have been wronged
They do not see that they, now, wrong those who
only wish them peace...
In spite of the White Eyes' ignorance,
And their misplaced belief
In the efficacy of
the great white way.


© Copyright 2005 jadejaguar (kat_miller at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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