Cogburn

Well, this is a little different from the rest. I watched "True Grit" the other night and just started writing. This is from the perspective of the young one and I felt that character as I wrote, feeling her words, the soul of the moment. In the end, it is what it is. Inspiration comes from all around, this is where I grabbed it from this time.

Snake bitten, riding home at sunset.
My thoughts begin to meander like so many
oxbows on the Missouri River.
The snake fever gives magic to thoughts,
granting, what the Natives would call, visions.
I saw the sun set and knew it could be my last.
Those golden rays danced across the Winter wasted forest
as I lay dieing on the saddle of the West’s last tragic hero.

I have felt great vibrancy of life in my fourteen years.
Even at such a young age I have encountered
both miraculous and truly deplorable acts by my fellow man.
I have tracked miscreants and their ilk throughout the Indian Nations
and have discovered that the true grit of a person lies not in their reputation, demeanor
or boisterous claims but in their actions.
It is the actions of Rooster Cogburn that I will hold dear to my heart
until I too am lain to rest on that hill where he now spends his days.

beware the prophet, the man who cares not for the trappings of this world
for he cannot be bought with gold or with whiskey
and he is a terrible danger to the false democracy under which we are governed
and all men who’s bellies rest lower than that of the serpent.