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Apr 2015
I go dark
Blood pulsing
Foot falls fast
Pounding the ground
Swimming before me
The night beckons
As it always does
I am not the wolf
But I howl
With centuries of fury
My tribe eons apart
My people
My truth
Bare skin broken
Like chords of history
Musical and painful
Thin and wiry
Spirit fiery
My ears thud
The wheat bends
Beneath my pace
I am the wind
Will not win
Nature’s race
But the chaff
Rises once more
Not separated
But part of the whole
I can fly
With no wings
I can soar
I am the drums
So I run
The poet
The child
The native
Burnt skin
To the edge of the world
Around then back again
And running
Always running
Written by
Graff1980  40/M/Litchfield Illinois
(40/M/Litchfield Illinois)   
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