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ROCK EAGLE

ALICE WALKER

In the town where I was born
There is a mound
Some five feet high
That from the ground
Seems piled up stones
In Georgia
Insignificant

But from above
The lookout tower
Floor
an eagle widespread
in solid gravel
Stone
Takes shape
Below

The Cherokees raised it
Long ago
Before westward journeys
In the snow
Before the
National Policy slew
Long before Columbus knew

I used to stop and
Linger there
Within the cleanswept tower stairs
Rock Eagle pinesounds
Rush of stillness
Lifting up my hair

Pinned to the earth
The eagle endures
The Cherokees are gone
The people come on tours
And on surrounding National
Forest lakes the air rings

With cries
The silenced make
Wearing cameras
They never hear
But relive their victory
Every year
And take it home
With them

Young Future Farmers
As paleface warriors
Grub
Live off the land
Pretend Indian, therefore
Man
Can envision a lake
But never a flood
On earth
So cleanly scrubbed
of blood

They come before the rock
Jolly conquerors

They do not know the rock
They love
Lives and is bound
To bide it time
To wrap its stony wings
Around
The innocent eager 4-H Club.

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