A Testament of Time

As dusk descends into the valley
beams escape
the sullen sky
reaching to touch the Rez
of marsh and pine

with golden rays that shine
on this land that knows
the devastation of policy.

The orders were to clear cut
and pressure the people to farm
a land not farmable
leaving an empty shell
of dying lakes and treeless soils,

a tactic of war
wounding for generations
but, the spirit of the Indian lives on
and the land is growing back.

©River Urke 2014

photography by River

care for a reading

One Comment Add yours

  1. slpmartin says:

    The land sometimes is unable to heal…which is the sadness state of all…a fine poem.

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