THE LAST CHIEF
With black eyes glazed on the horizon,
Seeking visions of his past.
While his fingers grope the crusty earth,
Sensing his spirit leaving fast.
Bearing tomahawk and knife in hand,
To fight the will of a senseless man.
To know the animals and paths to take,
While seeking strength from a sacred place.
Breed with in all red men,
The wisdom to seek and understand.
To live and lie honor bound,
To lay one's heart upon the ground.
His life now still, silent and cold,
No love, no solace, the white man hold!