by Jeffry J Brickley
Wednesday, April 10, 2002
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A lonely face looks out across the great prairie
His kind once ran the length and breadth of this land
Now his kind is no more, wandering like a lone gypsy
The reasons for his loss he can never understand.
Hunted and killed by these ones new to his home
Killed quick or by torture for reasons unknown
Here on the prairie where his kind did roam.
Here on the prairie without a tombstone.
Lost and alone he lets a tear gently fall
Echoed by another tear striking on the plain.
There is one other that knows of his downfall,
One other who understands the torture, the pain.
Arm on his shoulder they greet each other in sorrow
Eye meets eye, tear meets tear in total understanding
Only these two know they will see no more tomorrow.
They know that their races are already dying.
They walk into the snow, their presence already fading
Two souls with understanding of loss and of life
A red arm takes buffalo fur in hand, walking, crying
Two lives intertwined, birth to death, joy to strife.