Bad Medicine

There are faces of braves
Chiefs and shamans
In the rocks
In the tree trunks
In the clouds overhead
A tribe
Still with us
Still watching
And waiting for a lesson
To be applied

There is no judgment
In those empty eyes
No resentment
Or anger
Just overwhelming sorrow
For a world
That once was
And could have always been
Had the natives
To somewhere
Never reared their
Ugly countenance
To accept this toxic apathy
As fate inevitable