Reservation Sundown
by
Herb Burd
copyright 05-16-2002
Age Rating: 18 to 127
Sittin' by the river with bottle in hand.
Underneath this bridge that was once called the promise land.
From border to border not much to do.
Broken treaties is the only truth ever spoken to you.
Underneath this bridge I guess I'll make my final stand.
They pushed us back and gave us what they could not use.
They murdered us saying their law was the excuse.
The truth was greed with land and gold in their eyes.
What they did not know a warrior's pride never dies.
Some prefer to take a stand and watch them light their cannon's fuse.
They say that the rain never comes here.
Like the water in my eyes a long forgotton fear.
So I'm here underneath this bridge questioning the
courage of death and life.
I still stand unbroken even though disease came
and took my children and my wife.
Puzzeled by question's all answers some time are not always clear.
The sun now is slowly fading down.
My bottle now empty I toss upon the ground.
Left with an empty feeling once a rich history.
Now is sold on the corner the art of my people's legacy.
Once rich in wisdom now can be hardly found.
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Herb, you have told so many truths and it is very sad but you have done an excellent poem and message for all here and I have to agree whole heartedly with the rest of the gang.