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North American Dreaming: Winter Mourning

William Burkholder's poem is a memorial to those native Americans who suffered at the hands of white men.

Winter mourning, wounded knee, cold steel shattered bones,
long forgotten dreams, of ghost dance rhythms upon their land,
fallen and dead at the hand of the white man. Winter Mourning,
children, mothers and men,
dead on the ground.
Winter Mourning,
The snow the color of roses. Pallored and pink it runs and freezes,
under a cold, cold sky. Frozen warrior with fingertips curled, asking the
photographer, why.
My tears like the rivers run,
Lamenting the loss
At the muzzles of those guns,
Aye, different times,
Aye, different days,
Aye that winter Mourning,
Aye that winter Mourning. I can still hear the drums, still see them dancing,
singing. I can still feel them dreaming, of Wovoka's great return.

**

Do visit Troubadour21 magazine which Bill co-edits www.troubadour21.com

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