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?
hard to love when so much injustice
abounds,
hard to forgive when innocent blood
runs across stolen ground;
dirty little secrets, 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 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 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 standing like a wavering deck of cards,
waiting to crash down upon their guilt-ridden heads;
Sand
Creek remembers.
.
.
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