Those who know him will understand this, those who don't hear his words.

From Slick, wherever he is.

I know
R Wolfe
© Wolfehouse 2001

I know this land
Earth Mother's bare bones
Protrude from coarse grass
Dry hot is summer
Dry cold is winter
Life is hard, existence a struggle
Death red eyed, giggling strides uncloaked
Pestilence in step on his right
Hunger in step on his left
War before him, marking time
Today he comes with a bullet
Tomorrow hunger or disease
Sorrow a constant companion
Grief settles upon the land
Like brown dust of the afternoon

I Know these people
Agonizingly thin, sunwrinkled and brown
Ancient eyes above hollow cheeks
Men with beards, with guns
Living traditions ten centuries old
Strong in spirit, brave of heart
Women unseen, shrouded to toes
Weaving in and out silent
As homeless spirits wandering
Once, we stood together
Against a Red Star
Once more we stand
Against Evil insanity
Not of this land, or its people
Claiming Sanctuary abusing trust
Of Tradition, ten centuries old
I have kinship to them
We have much in common
These people, brown and sunwrinkled
And I, brown and sunwrinkled

Know this Struggle
Older than humanity
Sun and Stars
Bitter, bloody, stinking of death
Life is your bullet, death their bullet
Life without freedom is not life
It is breathing walking death
These people know this well
From this land, not its people
Came a great Darkness
Slithering, skulking the shadows
Cast by freedom's light
Struck without warning
Our innocent heart and soul
It cannot go unanswered
An unforgivable sin it would be
I will look in my children's eyes
And truspeak this, I did my best
And stood forth for what must be done