Sitting Bull



You were just a man.

But now you’re an icon.

I hold your picture on a bookmark.


But your spirit lives on.

I feel it as I gaze at the sepia-tinged photo.

I see it in your eyes gleaming out at me from this image frozen in time.


The evils heaped upon you were not your fault.

You didn’t know that you were wrong.

You didn’t know that the white man’s power was so strong.


And yet the injustices that you endured

Make your spirit strong.

As you peer out in silent reproach

Every conscience is pricked.


And your memory lies

Like a stain of blood

On the frozen snow of Wounded Knee.



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