RSS

With Death Comes Freedom

13 Sep

thAEEWISBZ

With Death Comes Freedom

Smoke circled within the birch bark shelter,

a tiny mouth suckled upon his mothers’ breast,

born in a world without fear in a world that would

one day disappear.

Innocent he grew into a man, a warrior, riding into

battle with only a “coupe stick” the blood of another

had never stained his hands until he was taught how

to kill by those who called him friend from a far away

land.

The once peaceful coupe sticks of war soon lay rotting

below the ground, principles, and the right to freedom

within time was gone and the lands where they were

born became the white man’s home.

Driven to desert prisons broken spirits would never mend,

no longer peaceful warriors they lived with scars on their

souls as well as their skin.

Mother’s eyes cried invisible tears, aching breast and arms

mourned for dead babies that would not be forgotten by the

passing of the years.

Proud people herded and confined in a worthless land, no

longer free because of lying and greed, hungry and dying of

the trespassers disease.

Truth is in the journey, many tried to take a stand, the rivers

became their burial grounds, and their blood stained the desert

sands.

Remember these people, they held onto hope until the end,

warriors, women, children, all dead because they thought the

trespasser, the white man was their friend.

An old man in his final moments knew that only in death freedom

could be found, his fading memory returned to songs merging with

wood smoke, a tiny mouth suckling upon his mother’s dark breast;

born in a world without fear, a world he now remembered, a world

that disappeared.

©2015.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

Advertisements
 
16 Comments

Posted by on September 13, 2015 in Poetry

 

Tags: , , , , , , ,

16 responses to “With Death Comes Freedom

  1. sedge808

    September 13, 2015 at 4:02 am

    quite powerful.

    Liked by 1 person

     
  2. bowmanauthor

    September 13, 2015 at 1:27 pm

    Magnificent

    Liked by 1 person

     
  3. simon yorke

    September 13, 2015 at 2:39 pm

    Sad, powerful, written beautifully. You know I once read by a First People elder, unfortunately I cannot remember which, that he foresaw this and although tragic he said it was meant to happen so all the people of the world could come together, very deep. It helped me come to terms with this event.

    Liked by 1 person

     
    • elizabeth ann johnson-murphree

      September 13, 2015 at 3:22 pm

      Simon, thank you so much for your kind comment. My fathers people were Chickasaw, he a “half-blood”. The teachings of my grandparents are still buried deep within me. E

      Liked by 1 person

       
  4. artandmoondreams

    September 14, 2015 at 7:14 am

    Powerful and emotional.

    Liked by 1 person

     
  5. cityhermit2015

    September 14, 2015 at 3:05 pm

    very powerful! staggering!

    Liked by 1 person

     
  6. Juss Ask Me

    September 14, 2015 at 7:19 pm

    Powerful poem. I love it.

    Liked by 1 person

     
  7. Aquileana

    September 20, 2015 at 8:22 am

    Excellent poem… Your verses truly resonated with me… I love your poetic style… best wishes. Aquileana 😀

    Like

     
    • elizabeth ann johnson-murphree

      September 20, 2015 at 3:40 pm

      Thank you so very much, and especially for the comment “my style”; I have work for years to get to “a style” that might be recognized someday. Maybe it will happen. Have a great day. E

      Liked by 1 person

       
  8. Patrice

    September 23, 2015 at 4:23 pm

    Beautiful. So true. So sad. So right. So very wrong.
    Thank You! for the ‘Follow’! 😀

    Liked by 1 person

     
 
%d bloggers like this: