Poem: Bury Me On Wounded Knee

In the field of Marsada, tears cascade, like dark clouds and rain, slowly I cry, Images of my thoughts fade, wilting like a desert rose, I struggle between the lines of fate and eternity, Like a shadow in the light, lay beside me just a memory, Through pages, scrolls, slate and phases, for freedom I search,   Between faces, the blacks the whites, all colours of different races, Between Guns and acres of Roses, Between infants, the feeble and the old, Between Nuggets, the Potter and the Gold, Between History, the lies and the stories untold, Between a Boy, the heartbreaks and a Man, Between Sketches, the Art and a Plan, Between the Rich, the politics and the poor, Between Voices behind bars, the innocence and the feet across an open Door, Between waving flags, Moments of silence and the hand in chains Between Goodbyes, the tears and rain, So, to the heavens I say:   We pray, we Fight, we win, we seek, we find, we fast, we dine, we celebrate, we live   and Die Free.