Joaquin, an Indian Brave
A poem I* wrote in high school...
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Joaquin, an Indian Brave was he,
To whom the forests and the trees,
Were as known as they could be.
But his knowledge was in vain.
For upon a reservation he was placed,
Where his skills, by many, were repressed.
Not to hunt, nor scout around, ever;
Just to sit and feel depressed.
The tourists came to stare and question.
Upon the day, they were a blot.
Why so sad, they said, you have it easy.
They who were free; He who was not!
* Permission to post from author: Madd Dawg