from the high point of the hill
in the shadow of a ruined house
I saw with the eyes of the Cherokee
I saw only the past
I saw the land of my fathers
I saw the misted horizon's wisdom
and I heard the sounds of the past
cannon fire and winds of despair
I wondered at the white man's war
I knew the black man was in chains
the blue soldiers would free him
but death was in the air
I must retreat deeper into the hills
I leave the river of blood
I will wait for peace to come again
I seek the clear water spring
I am only dreaming of the past
below me is the dark river
I see the misted horizon's wisdom
I must return to home once more
Thanks Spock. I do not read many here. It is nice to have a few readers who appreciate my work.
Another wonderfully written poem from your mighty pen. I truly admire how you put a lot into a single poem with brevity and depth. A significant write with political undertones.10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
History in poetical sensitive terms.The pain it does not teach us obvious!
Walking the hills of home I often though about the Civil War. I could see the Yazoo River where skirmishes occurred. There were arrowheads and charcoal beds where the Native Americans had made fires. I could not but help wonder what they thought of their new neighbors.