Where the Buffalo Roamed
NativeAmerican

by

I.M. Spadecaller

Where the Buffalo Roamed
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Where the Buffalo Roamed
"A beast of burden it is not. No yoke adorns its crown. Majestic, and stoic of stature; master of the open ground. Lungs heave as bellows, sending snorts of pleasure and pain from the massive bearded head on a thickly carpeted mane. Forelegs draped with sinews, to push or pull or run, carrying the mighty torso over plains from sun to sun. Such nobles led great herds, of millions were their number; meant to last for time to come, but not immune to plunder. For what was ripe in beauty and lordly in its bearing, became not a source of food, but rich robes for the wearing. Quickly herds were slaughtered. The meat rotted in the sun. Few beasts were left remaining when all was said and done. What is left is the legacy of the beast, strong and proud; for it survived the fashion and truth now is its shroud." Bison (Ode to the American Buffalo)- by Gerard A. Geiger
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GinetteCallaway
GinetteCallaway ::
October 08, 2010
Powerful image combined with the poignant poem it brings tears to my eyes. One of your best. The mighty buffalo herds fell like fragile daisies in the meadows cut down by cruel hands.

spadecaller
spadecaller ::
October 08, 2010
thanks Ginette!

LightHeart
LightHeart ::
October 08, 2010
Beautiful work, Matt, and so sad. I wonder sometimes how many humans worthy of the name are left on Earth, and if I'm one of them.

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