Native Slaughter Poem by Phil Smith
Native Slaughter
White man arrived uninvited
Guns making it easy
Like a swarm of locusts
Devouring everything
Our braves fought
Arrows against guns
Braves fell villages burnt
Women and children slaughtered
Rounded up like cattle
Herded onto wasteland
By government bigots
Who didn't give a damn
Their dignity taken
Leaving broken men
No reason to live
The spirits were calling
Years of this brutality
Anger of generations
Hatred and despair
Causing a human explosion
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4/23/2024 11:20:43 AM # 1.0.0.1119
This is a bit of history tinged with emotion, as it should be. I would have thought the writer might have said more. But sometimes the greatest affect occurs when things are just left hanging. Maybe, from a fruit tree. GW62