|
It was the same auburn hair |
|
But her body lay bare |
|
Where the night had left it cold |
|
And shaking for home. |
|
Her mother was strong and |
|
Shook free of the law |
|
Cried "come awake child |
|
And for god's sake come home." |
|
I whispered her name and |
|
Finally she came to me baring |
|
The holes she'd named |
|
And pieces she'd saved. |
|
I said "child you're a mess |
|
Let's just try and forget that |
|
Their names were all well known |
|
And your story well told." |
|
It was a frightening dream |
|
One of colours and screams |
|
From a girl whose Indian blood |
|
Was fresh on the snow |
|
Where the steam freely rose |
|
From those 52 holes that they'd left |
|
In her chest, in her head, in her hands. |
