Oakland, Or, USA
An intentional military stratedgy nearly annihilated a species,
Whose migration shook the plains like an earthquake.
And the resonance of their sheer numbers
Was thunder upon the land.
Hunters left in their wake,
A battlefield strewn with corpses;
Skinned and left to rot on the plains,
By the hundreds.
Pelts were sold in mass quantities.
Mountains of bones collected,
Trophy photos taken.
Aren't we the proud hunters?
Look what we've done!
But this strong spirit endured and survived!
I have gazed into the eyes of this gentle spirit,
And seen the power and majesty there.
And I have wept for the folly of the past,
And I have asked this spirit to forgive.
Words are my medicine.
Read and live and love and heal!