George M. Noblitt

THE REDMAN

 

Cool evening breezes weave through the pines

As the redman sits in wait

Silently he keeps a watchful eye

He's the master of their fate

 

Haggard by age the old Indian persists

Relentless to this task

For uncounted weeks he has tracked these men

Finally now the die is cast

 

A camp below filled with drinking and laughter

Shining sabres and coats of blue

The drunken white eyes are still not aware

That a payment of revenge is due

 

In the mind's eye the old Indian remembers

Why this quest was made

He pictures the death of the women and children

Butchered in the cavalry raid

 

Tears fill his eyes as he thinks of his people

The rage begins to flow

Old muscles now tighten and purge their age

Made ready is gun and bow

 

In the long shadows that fill the darkness

The predator begins his stalk

The old Indian moves to the campsite's edge

With senses keen as the nighthawk

 

He readies an arrow from quiver to bow

Then sends the arrow in flight

With the youthfulness of a warrior in battle

He springs into the fight

 

If all battles were measured by minutes in time

And victors honorable and strong

Then the redman surely knew his destiny

Not to win but to right a wrong