Endless Cycle
The streets are dark,
The evening cold,
One young man walks alone.
He is an Indian, small yet proud,
Out of his territory.
All of a sudden
Out of the dark
Hurried clicks on the pavement.
Jumped!
A scream
Friends come running
Knives are pulled
Chains are swung
Bloody bodies
Attackers flee
Friends carry the victim home.
The streets are dark,
The evening cold,
One young man walks alone...
Lynne Milum
July 1979
