Our people together and singing
dancing to the beat of the drum,
the days of hunting and feasting
are never again to come.
The fires went out forever
all our horses were stolen away,
and the language of our people
is heard only in yesterday.
Our hearts and spears were broken
in battles we could not win,
smoke rising from the cook fires
is smelled only in the wind.
People defeated and scattered
proud nations that are no more,
existing as bones and ashes
after riding away to war.
by Robert Quinn
all rights reserved
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