Bury Me At Wounded Knee Poem by Rebecca Wiles

Bury me at Wounded Knee,
for my heart grows faint and my body grows old.
The grounds too soft for my feet to tread,
and the nights are cold; too cold.

Bury me at Wounded Knee,
where the warriors died young and bold.
The white man comes to steal our land,
for the gold; pure gold.

Bury me at Wounded Knee,
for we won't do as we're told.
The women die from lack of food,
and our children are sold; all sold.

And soon our footprints in the snow,
will blow away with the wind.
And only silence lingers on,
where once laughter had been!