Souls Run Through

Bluecoat soldiers pale with wonder
Listen to the cannons thunder

Steal through woods as dark as night
Black boys, white boys, both in fright

Arm in arm, search their way
To Indian villages lit by day

Softly tread into the river
Black boys, white boys, soon deliver

Death where red boys gather wood
Death where red boy’s mothers stood

Crippling, killing, souls run through
Red boys, black boys, white boys, too


Published by monkmoonman

I'm a soapbox Irishman with a fever to set things right in the world. I write stories and poems about the planned genocide of Native Americans, the troubles of youngsters trapped in Special Ed classes, and the fallacy of celibacy in the Catholic church. If you're feverish like me, tune me in.

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