The ancient warrior, drawn and pale,
Hardly the image of eons ago,
Still gives us pause to reflect on
his plight,
The grave indiscretions of
His conquering foe.
Long ago, no one can remember,
Before all the ships arrived on his
shore,
This was "his" land
teaming with
Every abundance imagined to fulfill
his needs.
But boat load on boat load
Explorers and settlers amassed
On his borders, eyes hot with
passion,
Primed to the hilt; sword at the
ready;
Meant to proliferate credos of
greed.
Lies upon promises, heaped to
infinity,
Pushing and crowding him west to
the seas,
Killing his livelihood, breaking
his spirit,
Prodding and pounding him down to
his knees.
What kind of shame can a nation
endure
When it's destiny feeds off her
native son?
Somewhere in time there's a
reckoning day
Where truth is revealed...
And justice is done.
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