For Russell Means Poem by Eric Cockrell

we walk in silent circles,
mountains rise within.
rivers weep as if they knew,
somehow i think they do.
buffalo prayers dry like bones,
crows grieve as only they can.
the Great Spirit sows deep with destiny,
the sacred hoop calls forth souls.
night bows in silent awe,
waiting for dawn to undress the day.
wild horses gallop past kerosene huts,
where children speak the forbidden way.
a voice returns to silence,
leaving the truth in battles fought.
freedom takes back her lover,
ah, but soon he'll ride again!

for Russell Means