He stands tall and silent in his feathers and <br /> his beads and looks across the prairie that <br /> was once home to mighty steeds; across a land <br /> that once was bountiful, now laid waste by <br /> man kind's deeds. He turns his head to listen <br /> as the wind wails soft and low and hears the <br /> sound of distant drums and the ring of <br /> ghostly hoof beats as they race across the <br /> frozen snow. <br /> <br /> He turns again to gaze across the tattered <br /> land and shakes his head in sorrow as he <br /> begins to understand. The sun that rises on <br /> the red man also sets upon his yellow <br /> brother. The rain that washes away the brown <br /> man's fears also mixes with the black man's <br /> tears. The silver moon that haunts the <br /> midnight sky finds the white man looking back <br /> and asking why? He turns his head to listen <br /> as the wind wails soft and low and hears the <br /> sound of distant drums and the ring of <br /> ghostly hoof beats as they race across the <br /> frozen snow. <br /> <br /> He wonders at the millions who have answered <br /> hatred's call because he knows the same red <br /> blood runs through them all. They love, they <br /> hope, they bleed, they die and all are laid <br /> to rest beneath the same blue sky. He turns <br /> his head to listen as the wind wails soft and <br /> low and hears the sound of distant drums and <br /> the ring of ghostly hoof beats as they race <br /> across the frozen snow. <br /> <br /> He bows his head in sorrow as he wonders <br /> about tomorrow. On his cheek we see a tear <br /> as he stands tall and silent in his feathers <br /> and his beads. We turn our heads to listen <br /> as the wind wails soft and low and hear the <br /> sound of ghostly hoof beats as they race <br /> across the frozen snow. It is now his time <br /> to go.<br /><br />Betty L. Nelms<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/his-time-to-go/
