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  • Jennifer Preston Chushcoff


I wrote this poem after reading of the Kalakala’s fate in the News Tribune. Article by C. R. Roberts. Photo by Peter Haley.

For the Kalakala – the Flying Bird

They don’t write poems

for the defeated

the vanquished

for the little engine that


So this poem is for the losers

those bent in half

on their knees or

walking in the wind.

When cheers stop

and the crowd leaves.

When you’ve got to pick yourself up

and just keep going

-just keep going-

Sometimes, your best

isn’t good enough, but

nobody bothered to tell you that.

Sometimes, it seems forces conspire





And they do.

Sometimes, all that’s left is a dark walk to the graving yard.

So, keep your head high.

Go with grace.

And defy those bastards to the dying end.


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