Jan 30, 2010 22:38
As the bull lies down
The hills turn
from black to gold
and the river to powder
And the red cloud
Paints the hawks feathers
They know war has come
And will not end
For the pale do not
Fear the horses
And a people
Fall upon
Wounded knees
There is a shout
That is whispered
Upon the wind
That someday yet
We will be free
Robert Demery ‘10