
Clear 1: Mohawk Blood
by DOUG DRAIME
In the burning silence
outside the blaze,
that burned the hills
like rag weed, some of
my ancestors, my people
huddled on burnt
black plateaus, mourning
their dead and praying
for the gift of life alone.
Clear 1: Mohawk Blood
by DOUG DRAIME
In the burning silence
outside the blaze,
that burned the hills
like rag weed, some of
my ancestors, my people
huddled on burnt
black plateaus, mourning
their dead and praying
for the gift of life alone.