if heaven's rain drops, and God's tear drops
mix to fall
upon the petroglyph
of a desolate canyon wall,
out where the rock runs red
from ancient blood shed,
would anyone stop to see
this great shame of eternity
that is still flowing
throughout Indian reservations...
all across a hurting nation
The great shame of this country is that we took a warrior nation and locked them up and TOOK CARE of them. No greater injustice in my mind. Good one Smoky.
their cry is heard in the wind that haunts our desolate streets! great poem!
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Smoky, I like this a great message with evokate imagery allegory. On a similar line I invite you to read my poem Coat of Country which I wrote last year thinking about first peoples but my fellow countrymen and women the Australian Aborigines in particular.