Felt in the bones

Barren hopes of the reservation
when dignity is stripped away
wars, with their precipitation
tribes long gone, deaths flooded plain
 
 Custodians, tended it with loving touch
violence came and conflicts crunch.
As in Hiawatha's song
that ideal`s gone
so long held and right was trumped
 
Wordsworth's lines ring clearly, truths
spirits stir, ancestors ghosts still ride
If poetry could turn the tide
stallions with flaming hooves
a trial where nothing was denied
 
A heritage of beads and feather
savages trapped in celluloid of film
slaughtered for their brave endeavour
John Wayne master of the thrill
democracy through death distilled
 
 Songs of valour, fought against the cur
all around the campfire seated
of what we were, and passion stir
not swept beneath the carpets reaches
 
Fight on for rights, brave, undeterred.
A day to short to be reversed.