Along the Red Road

© By Ruth Carr

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I come to place
In the palm of my hand
Where the road runs out
And there is nothing but rock.

Only my fingers,
Wrapped round the need
To pass through walls
Inside the heart
Can find an opening,
Let the stone roll.

No messiah,
White-skinned, red or black
Can lift me up from Wounded Knee.
I hold or I release my own Drumcree.

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