A Terrible Crime

twin2twin2 Posts: 894
edited September 2005 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
War paint on a sunbaked face,
feathers tucked in a tight, long braid.
As hawk eyes stare out across the land,
viewing the sea and the shore of sand.
Tears come to the old, dark eyes,
he makes no movement as he cries.
Staring out at what was his home,
turning his heart to stone.
To see what was taken from his tribe,
by a people outnumbering his own by miles.
Who came as friends...but betrayed,
and are the cause of the decline of his race.
The old Indian looks out one last time with a final tear,
turns away and slowly disappears.
Post edited by Unknown User on

Comments

  • tells a sad story. Very well written
    The only thing I enjoy is having no feelings....being numb rocks!

    And I won't make the same mistakes
    (Because I know)
    Because I know how much time that wastes
    (And function)
    Function is the key
  • I loved it, twin2!!!! Excellent! Even have a wee tear in my eye after reading it.
    Forget your perfect offering, there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. - Leonard Cohen
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