The Spirit Within

there's a part of me i'll never know
that long lost Indian of many moons ago
my daughter's name was Many Bluebells
with spittled hair and sweated brow
and forced to run the gauntlet now
that led us all right straight to hell
the muted sun
the frozen ground
nothing making any sound
bodies lying all around
staring faces with grimaces
upon a bunch of primitives
this i was told not long ago
and one I hope to more deeply know