So many snows ago.
Deer-tracks marked a journey,
Tear-tracks marked a journey,
As train-tracks grew cold, collected rust, and families
Moved away, never to return.
Too hard to forage, for man and beast alike.
So came this fight for survival, dictated more and more
By the dollar, Almighty Dollar,
Killing life, killing jobs, killing hope,
Pandering for spoils, preying on the innocent,
Robbing the future.
How you still explode the sky to silhouette the beauty
Of these mountains,
With North Star guiding ever true.
We cry to see your light dimmed by such vast iniquity,
Illuminating once-fertile bowers, callously raided.
Helplessly, we stand in the rough-shod, abandoned tracks
Of our forbears,
To inherit an ominous fruition.