Mní Wičhóni

January 13th, 2019

Some strike the Earth to make her bleed.
Some ask the Earth for what they need.

Some make pacts with men of violence
to claim their share of the global island.

Some persist despite their trials and
share their claim, remaining guileless.

Some pump dragon’s blood in leaky pipes
that mud & sludge makes of orchards ripe
and arriving at its final pipe
exhausted, fumes into the sky.

Some hunt, are preyed, and wail and pray
and throw themselves into the fray
No law but Life’s do they obey
and so by Man are judged today.

No written word can guarantee
the freedom of the truly free.
No uttered phrase or law of man
can make it right, to take, to fight
who have been placed by God’s own hand.

So when o’er the dapl’d plains
come the men who build the trains
and endless acres all have paved
and guiltless millions have enslaved
doing all their evil in the names
of the ones deserving praise
and say what is to be built or razed,
not a one should be amazed
by their cunning tongues & crafty phrase
to lay their claim to dragon’s blaze,
but see how the heart is led astray
to want a wealth that does not pay
but takes its holder’s heart away.

From the dragon, locked in shale
come plumes of smoke and brimstone hail
and through the clouds a rider pale
is letting forth a warning wail.

His name is Death — his hour is now.
Man and nation each must bow.

And when his scythe in eager sweeps
has gathered men like sheaves of wheat
the chaff will fall, and landing, rot
At the foot of Standing Rock.