They Came

After the battles were over,
The Indians came.
Mumbling were their tongues,
They did not know their names.

Their land had been taken,
They were so poor.
This hungry brown people,
They knocked on our door.

Begging...they called it,
For something to eat.
Down-cast...they stood,
For a piece of brown meat.

Wrapped up in blankets,
With stringy black hair.
They stood there...so silent,
With a bleak, wolfish stare.

Bucks, Squaws...and children,
The remnants of this land.
A loaf...for their well-being,
As they reached forth their hand.

E.P. 1908 - 1989