The preamble of this post is yeaterday’s epistle.
I was billed at the conference as, not only as an American journalist, but a poet…a moniker I like.
My opening remarks for the gather fit the introduction.
The War of 1812
© 2012 Rolland G. Smith
Two hundred years have come an gone
And still we talk about a fight.
Instead of peace and man’s a song
And countries know what’s wrong and right.
Perhaps our families took up arms
to harm the other in a fight.
It happened on the lakes and farms
Both here and there and in Detroit.
But when twas done and peace was signed
Twas noithing gained and much as lost.
So many souls left dead or blind
A needless war and tragic cost.
Not one side lost and no one won
Just people died to hold the fort
And all because of Madison
An ill-thought war with lives cut short.
But there’s a side called “another.”
A Shawnee Chief of noble birth.
Tacumsa and his prophet brother
Fought to defend their sacred earth.
But they were left, as red man knows
To stand along without support
Despite the promise and the prose.
The white man always did distort.
But that was then and this is now.
Today we have a common ground.
It’s time for us to pledge and vow
The quest for peace is what’s profound.