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The Car and the Indian


Rusty Broadspear

The Indian Warrior watched

As his son was tied to the stake.

The child didn't watch

As he ran across the road,

No time for the car to brake.

Tears fell from the Warrior's eyes

His son was doing his best.

The driver saw the child too late

To brake. So he drove

Like a man possessed.

His body clenched

At the feel of hot steel,

He saw his Father kneel.

The car kicked the kerb and started to slide

Child and car sure to collide.

The Indian Warrior watched

Scorching steel slice

Through his son's neck.

The street was silent

The car was a wreck.

The Indian Warrior was led away

His son surely an Indian Brave.

The child lay still 

In a hospital bed

The driver was prepared for the grave.

The doctors said he should be dead

But they couldn't see into the child's head.

He was pulled back from the line

By a thread so fine

Pulled by an Indian Brave

Who was long, long dead.

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