Anthony W. Pahl
ARENA OF WARRIORS
Powdered blood on the desert floor, fine as the silken sky of night
Contrasting rust against grey limestone, reflects ancient fire’s light.
While sandstone peaks point to the stars and the gaping caves demand
Vivid blue spirit skies invite warriors’ souls to rest in this red land.
And the warriors of a far distant war, never to clasp each other’s hands,
Join in eternal brotherhood according to the Great Spirit’s commands.
While the desert beasts of air and earth watch with knowledge of an age
The brothers from new worlds merge on the red earth’s eternal stage.
Breaths of the Wind Spirits echo and whisper eerie mournful sounds
Through open gaping pleading mouths of caves on awesome mounds
The wails of ancient children reply; sounds of dark and awful pain
The living desert is deathly silent now; now only ghosts remain.
The ancient rocks and desert sands absorb the blood of ancient times
As the essence of two warriors join in the desert words and rhymes
While those who know the truth of all stand watch up on the heights
To protect the warriors of the past and ensure that all is right.
©Copyright December 30, 2001 by Anthony W. Pahl
Author’s Note: Dedicated to Rebecca SaraAnne Grey Eagle (nee Small Eagle) and written as a tribute to her father, Grey Eagle, an American hero, a Native American, a Vietnam Veteran, and my friend. Photo taken at the Valley of Fire, Nevada, USA.