Vision at Little Bighorn
I went to Little Bighorn
On a hot summer day,1987,
I wondered if the Seventh Cavalry
Was in hell or heaven -
Out there all alone
I came upon the old General's ghost wandering around,
He kept glancing far away
While staying close to the ground -
I'll never know for certain
If he saw me or not,
He just kept wringing his hands
As if he couldn't stop -
Upon the path where he paced
Blood dripped from his boots,
It soaked in deep and wide
Down to the prairie grass roots -
From way down in this hallowed ground
I heard the dead soldiers cries,
The agony of the lost
Who so long ago on this spot died -
No one else was there under the burning sun
This mysterious scene to see,
I observed it all
Alone, on the desolate, dry prairie -
I felt as if a visitor
Watching from another time,
Perhaps the heat had got to me
Or I'd simply lost my mind -
I tried
But I could not walk away,
I wanted to ask him 'Why? '...
Yet no words could I say -
I just stayed there
Hour upon hour,
Watching, listening... feeling it all...
As if in the grip of a strange power -
I swear I saw Sitting Bull
Riding swiftly toward me on a spotted horse,
I was knocked flat to the ground
By the passing force -
I looked up high
Into the blazing sun,
There I saw Warriors in victory dancing
Realizing full well their fight was done -
Still, I couldn't help to wonder
What of Custer? What was his fate?
Was he too far gone?
Was it, for him, way too late?
[...] Read more
poem by Smoky Hoss
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
