The Big Question
More Stories
Poetry
It Ended at Wounded Knee
by Will HodgkinsonIt all ended that bitter December day at Wounded Knee,
where the wind perpetually blew across the great frozen expanse of prairie, barren and remorseless. Eddies of snow propelled by the frigid current.
The sky, a savage blue, arcs high above, the sun’s glare merciless. The camp lies...
Click to read the whole poem...