Bear River

Battered spirit, broken faith, torn and bruised inside.

Lifeless people, lifeless land, no place left to hide.

Wind still blowing, cold and lonely, through scarred trees and fields.

No longer touching, no longer tasting Nature’s comely yields.

Empty promise, broken treaty, but loaded with such rage;

Red and white, blood for blood, the terror of an age.

Era turning, hurt still throbbing, but lost amongst a war.

Inner turmoil from the battle; can’t even the score.

Dawn comes rising, new and lovely on that fateful morn.

Bullets rain down, spirits flee, the peace is rent and torn.

So few left to tell the story of that total slaughter.

Yet murders untried lead to glory, and praise rains down like water.

Helpless children, mothers, wives, fathers, husbands all.

Each butchered ; too late now to heed the bullet’s call.

So few left to grieve the passing of those poor, lost souls.

So little left in this world to fill ghostly bullet holes.

The smoke came thick and black that day; the wind carried it on.

The fire ran to catch the souls of those who were now gone.

To think that any man alive could cause this makes me shiver.

And never will I once forget the Battle of Bear River.