Indian Redemption

The indian painted his face, readying himself for battle
His hor neighed, weary but willing, muscles taught with life burning within his eyes
His friend calm and ready to return his rights to him,
but by force

Years later, when the horse was dead
It was the indian and his friend who became the horse;
the ones who warned those who have eyes that are still shut
when a neighboring tribe was in need of redemption

Freedom is never free, not in any country
We are the master slaves of the slaves who died before us
Though still burdened with the truth and sacrafice;
the right to emancipate those still in bondage.