Cries From the Wilderness
The sunset palette of the evening ends the day
with wounded men in blood splayed fields
drenched in suffering upon our land from anger
could that such an evening welcome beauty
and bliss with peaceful intentions
not the turbulent rumblings of our enemies souls
as we lay scattered, hungry and weary
on our own ancient lands
trying to forget, thankful for another breath
wishing it were not so
we find no purpose in destruction then to stay alive
here at Wounded Knee
crying with our memories, screaming at our dreams
praying for our ancestors to save us in this our hour of need
Please, Great Father, When does it end?
Must we perish from Mother Earth before they are satisfied
Will they ever be satisfied? Must they have it all?
Will our cries in the wilderness be heard?
5/16/20
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