Battle scarred, always alert Tomahawk and knife at hand A heart horrendously hurt Chased from kin and land When will this war end? When will there be peace? When will our wounds mend? When will this madness cease? Will there ever be time to love again? Time to care for the future of the young Instead of fighting the greed and cruelty of man To build a time and place for which we long Where way of life moves the Great Spirit When will the pipe of peace be lit? Was not mankind destined to Be the gem of Manitou?
I have alway had a distaste for the man who claimed to have discovered something that did not belong to him and claim that God gave it to him. I have always wondered as to why God would give something already given.
God gave that land to the Indians long before it was discovered...
I love your poem!
Hugs,
Judy
Reviewed by J M (Reader)
Reviewed on February 4, 2007
For the Great Pipe of Peace never comes it changes from nation to nation and tribe to tribe. Mankind has by greed and dominance made sure of that. Will ever as humanity smoke of the peace pipe. This is powerful and a wasteful time in our nation.... Rage you always bring forth truths even when it may be hurtful you bring them to us to look, feel, and then we should repent and make plans to try to bring peace. That is what God [The Great Spirit would command} This one touched me on a personal level being part Cherokee I can relate to all Native Americans pain and sufferings the world has brought to them. Natives gave survival and life measures to the Pilgrims. We turned and amassed their lands, heards, and their very essence in the end. For a few spaces of lands, treaties, and payments we owed much more. God have mercy on each generation that ever dwelt under the sun.
What if you were named as heir to a Will that you knew nothing about and members of your family were being kidnapped and tortured for information they didn't have? What if you went to the police only to find out the Russian Mafia and your own govern
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Exquisite write.
Peace,
Carolyn
Love Tinka
thanks,
~D.
God gave that land to the Indians long before it was discovered...
I love your poem!
Hugs,
Judy
Once again
Much Respect,
Joselyn
Love,
Susan