THE LAST BATTLE; By Leonard Peltier

Macdonald Stainsby mstainsby at
Fri Aug 11 15:33:48 MDT 2000

P.O. Box 5464
TACOMA, WA 98415-0464
Voice Mail: (253) 593-9631
E-Mail: NatAimer at & bayou at


  THE LAST BATTLE; By Leonard Peltier

  As I stood in silence looking through the broken window of the wooded
shack in which was once my home, I could see the misty morning dew
as it laid in rest, not yet awaken by the coming of the Father Sun. Then
suddenly there came a formilizing sound that carried me back to my
early childhood. I heard the sound of someone crying. But after a few
moments I was only that of the wailing wind, weeping out as
if in great pain. Then as suddenly as it came it departed. Once again the
cold sound of silence fell upon me ...with it came back so many
memories. It was at that moment that I decided to vist the beautiful
Mother Earth, to seekout her comfort and love from this haunting feeling
of emptiness.
  As I walked through the heart of this ancient reservation the gentle mist
seemed to reach out and cling to me like some violent spirit  without
form. As I  continued to walk I came across several hidden trails of
nature, but all looked to belong abandoned...leaving only the ugly for
memories, as if a reminder of that that once was.
  Then there sitting upon a river bank, I could see an old Indian man, with
long silver shining hair, bound tightly in braids that reached the length of
his hips, aimlessly tossing pebbles to the muddywater...water that had
long changed its colors from the White Man's, turtles, and
even the playful many of life's water creatures, once
depended upon for the survival of my people...laid lifeless with decay
upon the river's banks.
  As I turned to the old man, I couldn't help but wonder who he was, for
over the years I had come to know all the  Elders of our Nation.And then
as if my thoughts were spoken, he rose up to look into my eyes. As if
he had known I would come and had been waiting. As he stood
there...from the morning light I could see tears forming in his lifeless
eyes, and as I looked a little closer I could see that they were the
sacred tears of blood, cried through generations of sorrow by our people.
  Then softly I heard him son, I am a very old man of great age,
sorrow, pain in many  visions, but most important of all I am the original
seed of life, handed down to our people  by the Great Spirit.
 I am the voice...of a thousand battles, who speaks with the wisdom and
direction from years of counseling with traditional Chiefs and our Elders.
  I am the voice...for a Nation that seeks the beauty of freedom...freedom
through  whatever means possible, from the rusty chains of bondage,
that has long imprisoned our people and those of all Indian Nations.
  I am the voice...for the people that have struggled and cried for
hundreds of years, the bitter tears of blood, through death, starvation,
racialism and suffering under the vice of the White Man's greed.
  I am the voice...for the people who demand that the White Man stop
destorying mankind, stop abusing our beautiful Mother Earth  through
the use of nuclear arms and explosives.
  I am the you my people of the great strength andpride, for we
can no longer survive off the White Man's pity. We must strike back and
fight...if we are to prevent the total annihilation of ourpeople, and all
  I am the voice...that will carry with great love and pride your prayers
and cries to the Great Spirit for forgiveness for the violent crimes being
forced upon you the people to commit, in order to survive...with the
honor and pride that so many of our people have died for through
generations of battle.
  Then suddenly as if Mother Eath had vailed him with her ravishing
beauty...he vanished, leaving only a handful of pebbles, as if a reminder
of the very ground at which he once roamed at some time or another.
  As I continued upon my journey across the reservation a smile crept
upon my face, as I thought about the old Indian man ...raving on like
some madman about the destrution of Mother Earth.
  I found no such destruction. As I shrugged my shoulders in doubt...for I
thought perhaps it was just hallucinating? With this thought in mind I
began to look around me, searching for life, amd more and more I
noticed several of the Great Spirit's creatures laying about motionless,
others staggering from deformity, quivering from pain under the slumber
of death.
  Grievously sad and bewildered, I began to wonder what could have
possibly inflicted such a widespread destruction  upon my four-legged
brothers...why?? And where are my beloved sisters the  dear and the
antelope  that once grazed in multitudes and roamed freely across the
vast plains?
  As I continued to gaze about I began treambling vigorously...then I as if
in desperation, my eyes turned to the sky, searching for the beautiful
winged ones  that once flew with enormous speed and grace...but they
too could not be found...for they also layed crippled, infected or
motionless under the summer heat of our now barren Mother Earth.
  With extreme hate and vengeance, I looked once more upon this
horrifying sight...that had once been the beautiful Mother Earth, so
abounded with life and enormous beauty. While looking upon this
monstrous destruction created by the White Man's greed...I began to
smell the repelling odor of human flesh burning, so foul a scent that my
eyes began to burn, as my heart beat uncontrollably...violently fighting
to be free from all this death and destruction.
  As the odor of death filled my lungs I started to run. As I approached
my village it appeared  to be deserted, for I found only the mute sound
of silence. I could not hear the barking of dogs that never failed to watch
over our village, there came no sound of laughter from the children that
never failed to play under the warm Father Sun, or of their mothers that
would call out to them, I found only that of a dreadful silence...a cold
chill began to ran through me as the mighty fear of loneiness  clinched
me within its powerful hands.
   Overpowered by panic...I forced myself to ran to the very first Indian
house  that was near. After entering a few feet I froze...for there before
me were the mulilated bodies of my people, men, women, and children
layed on the floor, masked by the face of an agonizing death. As if
shackled to the very pit of pain, I  began to scream as tears rolled down
my cheeks. And when I came upon the last house in my village, I found
the same as the first, twisted bodies deformed beyond recognition.
    Lost and alone, I walked as if in a trance to the center of the village.
Then I  heard a terrifying explosion that deafened my ears and rapidly
vibated my entire body. As I looked up into the sky I saw a flash of light,
so bright it became blinding to my naked eyes...with extreme pain I
continued to watch as an enormous mushroom formed.
  Not able to look any longer I turned my eyes upon the ground, and
cast from my shadow came the mirrored reflection of the old Indian...
weeping and wailing bitter tears of sorrow over our people.
  Blistered and weak I fell to my knees...and there upon the ground was
a pool of blood...the old man's weeping tears.


Whereas: Leonard Peltier was originally convicted of aiding and abetting
murder of two FBI agents on the Pine Ridge Oglala Lakota Reservation,
but formerly withheld documents supporting Peltier's innocence later
forced the prosecution to admit that they could not prove who actually
killed the agents, and despite this lack of evidence, Peltier has remained
in prison for 24 years, and

Whereas: The trial of Leonard's co-defendants resulted in a not guilty
verdict based upon the right of self-defense, and

Whereas: There is disturbing evidence of FBI misconduct in this case,
that falsified affidavits were used to extradite Peltier from Canada, that
ballistics tests were falsified and young witnesses were intimidated, that
even the U.S. Attorney has admitted no one knows who pulled the
trigger that killed the two FBI agents, and

Whereas: The case of Leonard Peltier came about because of a long
conflict on the Pine Ridge Oglala Lakota Reservation that resulted in the
suffering of many people, and

Whereas: Peltier, a Native American activist, has been a model prisoner
for over 24 years, with no record of violence and has contributed to many
humanitarian efforts from prison, and that the seriousness of his
deteriorating health could result in stroke, heart disease and kidney
failure if not properly treated soon, and that his Parole Board recently
denied his request for parole and his next hearing is not scheduled until
the year 2008,

Therefore be it Resolved. That the NORTHWEST LEONARD PELTIER
SUPPORT NETWORK is organizing a campaign for the Fall of 2000 to
encourage President, William Jefferson Clinton to grant Leonard Peltier
Executive Clemency in the spirit of reconciliation. Please call the White
House Comments Line (202) 456-1111. We ask all people to join with us
in this campaign.


MARCH AND RALLY: March starting point, noon, First and Yesler
(Chief Sealth Statue), Rally Steinbreuck Park.

CLEMENCY MARCH AND RALLY: march starting point, noon,
Sylvester Park (Legion Way & Capital Blvd).

(Blaine, WA), march starting point, noon, Blaine Park (corner of Blaine
& Alder), rally at Peace Arch Park. Donations are greatly needed,
please send them to: NWLPSN--Olympia Office, P.O. Box 4398,
Tumwater, WA 98501.


Susan Morales, NWLPSN Co-Coordinator
Robert Free, NWLPSN, Co-Coordinator
Arthur J. Miller, NWLPSN, Co-Coordinator
Steve Hapy, Jr, NWLPSN, Security Coordinator
Carol Reed, NWLPSN Secretary-Treasurer

NWLPSN  Advisors And Organizers
Harold Belmont
Peter Bohmer
Tiokasin Veaux
Tyree Scott
Juan Jose Bocanegra
John Parsak
K.L. Shannon
Jim Page
Jim McMahan
Dylan Magon Floyd-Miller
Tim McHugh


Macdonald Stainsby.

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