The warriors of the day fight against the
Dying of the the light turning into ghosts
Of remembrance and nothing more. Yet a
A remnant remains .  The warriors of the
Darkness they to must yield to the coming
Morn but a remnant of all remains in our
Memory to foreshadows the knowing that
Nothing is more constant than change and.
All enmity is futile because all that we can-
Will remember wii be the treasures that are
Stored in heaven; and when we clearly see
The tales told by an idiot we will laugh like
The lover who watches his children play and
Would see them playon forever in his sight.r days
So at the end of our days we shall see God  even
As He now sees us.  With Love in all our ways

Wounded Knee, you are to me
a sacred spot. A cavalry,
a Calvary, we ought not
forget the thousand screams,
the streams of blood that
flooded prairie grass.
Babi Yar, you're not so far
from Wounded Knee. I'd
have to be without eyes
or ears not to hear or see
the enormity:  the mangled
bodies, the twisted forms,
that speak, that wreck
of evil, and of seeing and
not saying no. My Lai,
our lie, women and children
dying, lying on our lies,
covering culpability, a quilt
of carnage, but where is guilt?
Cambodia, your killing fields
now flower with blood and
bones of beings fleeing tyranny,
thousands falling near you
and me as we sip our tea
and munch on sweet cakes of
propriety. El Playon, los
paisanos pobres know no
place but death. No dearth
of death squads here, no
fear of duplicity, my
country's complicity in
these atrocities--my country,
tis of thee, sweet land of
liberty--El Salvador no esta
aqui, porque, like Wounded Knee,
the savior is you and me.

Copyright 2019 Tod Howard Hawks