No matter how many wolves bite at your neck
No matter how many roam and circle around you
Waiting to pounce, to penetrate
To take a shot, a stab, poke at your fleshy meat

No matter how many clouds turn dark
No matter how many suns don't shine
No matter how many stars fall from the sky

The hunt is on
So gather your weapons
Your spears, your axe
Prepare for the battle
Prepare for the judgement
Prepare for the wounded knee

For my sisters,
My brothers,
My mother and my father,
It is always a good time to dance


© 2008 David Greg Harth
08.06.04.12:22:34@296NYC