Pale riders

Stars and stripes wave in such glory,
          above the bleeding women's and children's corpses.
With braves so far away,
          soldiers rode so bravely, to strains of "Gary Owen"
There was no resistance,
          to your Hotchkiss Guns.
I know today what that stripe of yellow,
          on your pant still stands, as you rode away.
Strips of flesh cut from dying mothers,
          you displayed their sex, on hats of blue.
That day at Wounded Knee, there was no valor.
         You should strike your star-spangled banner,
                  a swastika will do.
A nation hides its living genocide, in the hidden,
         corridors of time.
God remembers still..