Running Water
I have the youth
of the mystical
not aborted
by logicians
and theorists.
The trees
and mountains
have dark shadows
and I understand
that darkness
is also
a part
of me.
My eyes
shine
like the
summer sun.
For although
"they"
call me a white man
my spirit races
with those
who were minds
of the earth.
Ate what was killed.
Prayed to animals
and stars.
The wind our brother.
The sea the giver.
They call me a white man
but I had nothing
to do with the slaughters
of the Red man
And
the butchering of 60 million
buffalo
to starve the "savage."
The savage who was and
still is
more wise.
My heart eternally
bleeds at
Wounded Knee
and Sandy Creek
where sacred faces
vanished from the earth.
For although they call me
white man
they cannot control my mind.
I am
Running Water.
-written at Sea Pines Plantation, Hilton Head Island, 1992-
John Alan Conte` JR
mystrawhat.com
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Poetry By
John Alan Conte`, Jr.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in
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permission of John Alan Conte Jr.
