25 June, 1976 - At Little Bighorn Battle Field

When as a young boy attending grade school
and I first learned about Custer's last stand,
why did I experience deja vu
and sense so keenly that far away land?

When as a young boy attending grade school
and I first heard about that man made hell,
why did I experience deja vu
and sense so keenly where many men fell?

When as an adult on that death pocked hill
I finally did chance to walk and stand,
why did I feel such a strange eerie chill
on that bright summer day so warm and bland?

When as an adult on that death pocked hill
looking out over that parched rolling ground,
why did I feel such a strange eerie chill
and silent desperation all around?

When walking down Cemetery ravine
and I chanced to pause at an unmarked spot,
why did I sense a dark presence unseen
and feel such terror where those doomed men fought?

When walking down Cemetery ravine
and upon ascending the low divide,
why did I sense a dark presence unseen
and feel so akin to the troopers who died?

The answers to these things I do not know
nor to many other veiled things I feel,
or how it is I sense just where to go
to locals on the field that seem so real.

I will not try to speculate or guess
by acquired knowledge some might suggest,
but a different reason I confess
may to some others seem actually best.