Crazy Horse once moved over the land of the Sioux
Like the hailstorm he painted on his face for battle
White spots with a jagged line of lightning running down one side
Crazy Horse defended his home
His people
So long ago
Now he moves freely over the land
Like a hawk
Like a wolf
Like a buffalo
For he is the wind riding on the hopes of his people
Moving with them in spirit
For the Black Hills have still not returned to the Sioux
There’s too much yellow iron in the ground
And thoughts of plentiful black gold for that matter
The ground is rich with uranium
Making the nuclear power proponents smile even when they sleep
Crazy Horse, they say it’s the way of the future
Yet, they, never look back to the treaties of the past
Fort Laramie was signed in trust was it not?
Yet they only see the money making potential
Of power plants puffing away on the plains
Producing energy for heating many fine homes in the cities
While your people fight off the cold living in tarpaper shacks
Sleeping in rusted out cars abandoned in fields
Underneath a star filled winter sky above
The poorest of the poor they are
Still suffering
But still holding on to you and the memory of their forefathers
For the memory can not be taken from them
Like everything else they’ve known
I wonder at times if the same land takers of old
Tried to lay claim on parts of the spirit world
Passing over, did they see something valuable in the air?
Or maybe in the clouds
Then say the spirit world was now theirs
I know
This sounds as absurd as them telling you and your people
They owned the mountains
The streams
The trees
The earth
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