Bury My Heart in My Left Knee

Bury my heart in my left knee,
But I’m not really asking for you to feel sorry for me.
It’s audacious to ask for sympathy
And compare one’s self of the real Wounded Knee.
I stood right there on the edge of the field
Where old men, women and children helplessly had to yield
To the violent, mercilessness of Caesar’s Cavalry.
I cried as I listened to shrieks from the past echoing in that field,
History would not forget that reality,
And the Lakota have steeled
Against such oppressive, mind-boggling inhumanity.
But I have to admit, when I have acute pain in my left knee,
It is kind of hard to concentrate on what is going on around me.
So, a few aspirin I will take
And return to focusing and concentrate
On life’s real joys and, yes, of course, the tragedies
Like what happened at Wounded Knee.
Never forget, never forget, never forget
So as not stupidly to repeat brutal history.

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