Sand Creek;
the truth dances like a ghost,
a mighty wind whispering
through the silence of the night;
who
will hear the voices?
who will right the
wrong?
it is hard to love,
when so much injustice abounds,
hard to forgive, when innocent blood
runs across stolen ground,
dirty little secrets hidden in time,
deep dark memories of which
no one speaks;
you
can never escape the past;
it follows you like a shadow,
softly surrounding you like a glove,
slowly blending into who you are,
silently determining what you become;
all the treachery and cowardice
revealed,
the self-made bravado and
false heroics silently exposed,
sons of murderers,
daughters of liars and thieves,
descendants of swine,
a little lower than dogs,
somewhat less than human;
without
honor,
without dignity,
without hope;
their homes built upon
hypocrisy and greed,
their tongues filled with
misconceptions and lies,
their legacy stands like a wavering
deck of cards,
waiting to crash down
upon their guilt-ridden heads;
Sand
Creek remembers.
.
.
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