Sand Creek;
the truth dances like a ghost,
a mighty whisper on the wind,
who will hear the voices through
the silence of the night,
who will right the wrong?
hard to love, when so much
injustice abounds,
hard to forgive, when innocent blood
runs across stolen ground;
dirty little secrets,
of which no one speaks,
forgotten memories,
best left hidden;
you can never escape the past,
it
follows you like a shadow,
softly
surrounding you like a glove,
slowly
becoming a part of who you are,
silently determining what you
become;
all the treachery and cowardice
revealed,
their souls laid bare, the self-made bravado
and false heroics, silently exposed,
sons of murderers, daughters of 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 standing like a wavering deck of cards,
waiting to crash down on their guilt-ridden heads;
Sand
Creek remembers.
.
.
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