history / Native Americans / Poetry / Uncategorized

Great Plains

This feral land

born of fury and lightening flash

untamed by gusty prairie winds

in some chronological strata

near the still earth

you can hear the thundering hooves

great herds of buffalo

ghosts of the rolling red plains

driven to the depths of extinction

their hides and bones

heaped in mountains of dismay

through the strands of prairie grass

a steady gaze

colored in vivid vermilion paint

stares back

red warriors strong and stoic

humming chants of the Sun Dance

the echoes reach through

and rattle this place

this land carved from

mad dreams and wild plains

with the blade of an obsidian knife

rugged railroad ties

borne on the backs of beasts

ever pushing, raging forward

white shirt men

winning a mythical town

in a crooked poker game

with a washed away waterfall

and gaining all those broken spirits

of the ones that lost everything.

Photos courtesy of a recent trip I took to the museum.

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10 thoughts on “Great Plains

  1. Our ancestors were a brave and strong lot, weren’t they? Can you imagine crossing an entire country in a rickety wagon…with no roads, no electricity, and all sorts of potential dangers (both animal and human)??

    • Those were dangerous times for sure. I wish some family members would have written things down, kept journals, etc., I have a few letters my grandmother wrote in the 1920s, but that was way after coming to Texas.

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