Man Called Thunder

Bold Warrior
Of the Setting Sun
Stands on the Rock of Imprisoned Time
The stony features of his darkened face
Ask no pity
Claim no piety
But iron eyes remember:
Burning lodges on a blood-red river
Broken arrow on Sacred Earth despoiled
A riderless pony gallops into blackness
And is seen no more
For screaming children
Slaughtered wives
The Eagle cries for Justice
And there is none
In a heartless land
But shallow men
Dig shallow graves
And in the gleaming of Long Awaited Moon
Lone Palomino return from Midnight Pasture
And the Fallen Ride Again.

(First electronically published in This Hard Wind, by EWGPresents, Vol.4, No.5, May '00)

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Comments (1)

I am haunted by the terrible beauty of this poem which speaks so eloquently of what was once but can never be again. Kind regards, Sandra fowler