November 04th, 2019

We the proud and peaceful people, the people of the land. Our home, the great open plans. Our people seek only to honor, the Great Mother, the land on which we live. Woman, children, our old, our brave, we are many, but we are few. They come in peace, so they say. The whites and their Chief. When all is said and done, my people the old the young the woman and braves, now lay still on the snow covered ground. My people have all crossed over. We are no more. 

We were young men all, eager to honor our country, proud and brave. There they stood, by the side of the road, the poor the sick, peaceful and proud. He gave the order, free them all, we looked at each other, hearts pounding. Do it now, he yelled, we did our duty for honor. The trench dug, the area cleared. Orders followed, A village gone. 

The peaceful stood on the gently sloping ground, arms locked and love in their hearts. Proud to band together against the injustices of war. To show there is a better way. As always, as in the past, they come. The fresh young faces, and their chief. They say they come in peace, when all is over four lie dead. Does it ever change, can we never learn? Will the power of love, ever become stronger than the love of power. or are we to proud?