(I know this may be a controversial poem, but I write this in Honor of Dennis Banks, Leonard Peltier, and all those who fought and died and those still fighting today)
During February 27th year 1973,
there was a siege at a place called Wounded Knee.
From all tribes came elders, children, women, and men ready to take part.
They camped on a hillside by a church named 'Sacred Heart'.
They were surrounded by white vigilantes and Dickey Wilson's goons,
the FBI, the local police, and undercover Army platoons.
They went bearing arms stready and strong.
The Govrnement thought they wouldn't last long.
The odds were against them and they certainly knew,
but the ancestors help them, so their spirits grew.
'TWO THOUSAND CAME HERE TO WOUNDED KNEE, ONE STAYED'
Buddy Lamont's memory lives on to this day.
The siege lasted a good 71 days,
but they laid down their arms on the 8th of May.
Carter Camp, Leonard Crow Dog, Wallace Black Elk were taken to jail.
Dickey Wilson took glee saying they would fail.
Though the siege is over and much damage was done,
the war for American Indians has yet to be won.
To some they were militant heroes to others militant men.
But as a people, it was our beliefs they would die to defend.
Never again would the Country look at American Indians the same.
Thanks to all the people who fought and died for AIM.
Love is like a gust of wind; it blows and then goes away...
Without you, my soul goes out of control on the brink of danger...
My world is already in a violent storm