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The Car and the Indian
By
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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