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Backward Man

I walk backwards through life
Forever weaving against
The hearts of men.

Not to unravel any kindness
Within, but to imbalance
The harshness of cruelty.

The dress I wear may come
As laughter's source of men
My nose, waving in the winds.

My cane, is only a stick of leaves
That comes with the life I carry
With those I walk.

I dance backwards and look
In opposite directions
Waving to the winds.

My whistle, harsh to the ears
Imitating the screech of eagles
In time with the angels
Singing all around me.

-© Copyright Wayne Scott of Swan Lake First Nation Reserve of Manitoba Canada

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