Comments about Donald Fox
Thirty-eight drumbeats thundering in the cold
Thirty-eight breaths of a buffalo bull
Thirty-eight ropes of equal measured length
On a cold December morning while we wait.
Thirty-eight death chants or was that a hymn?
Thirty-eight warriors standing there on some wood
Thirty-eight pairs of hands reaching out for each other
To take away the sin of the world.
Thirty-eight songs by which to remember
Thirty-eight tears held tight in our hearts
Thirty-eight nights of insufferable dark
Breaking our drums, silencing our song.
Many long years of crying in...