Arena of the Warriors


 Powdered blood on the desert floor, fine as the silken sky of night
 Contrasting rust against grey limestone, reflects ancient fire’s light.
 While sandstone peaks point to the stars and the gaping caves demand
 Vivid blue spirit skies invite warriors’ souls to rest in this red land.


 And the warriors of a far distant war, never to clasp each other’s hands,
 Join in eternal brotherhood according to the Great Spirit’s commands.
 While the desert beasts of air and earth watch with knowledge of an age
 The brothers from new worlds merge on the red earth’s eternal stage.


 Breaths of the Wind Spirits echo and whisper eerie mournful sounds
 Through open gaping pleading mouths of caves on awesome mounds
 The wails of ancient children reply; sounds of dark and awful pain
 The living desert is deathly silent now; now only ghosts remain.


 The ancient rocks and desert sands absorb the blood of ancient times
 As the essence of two warriors join in the desert words and rhymes
 While those who know the truth of all stand watch up on the heights
 To protect the warriors of the past and ensure that all is right.


 ©Anthony W. Pahl
 30th December 2001


 Dedicated to Rebecca GrayEagle and written as a tribute to her father, Marvin GrayEagle, an American
 hero, a Native American, a Vietnam Veteran, and my friend.


 The poem was written a few days after my pilgrimage to "The Valley of Fire" located in the Mohave
 Desert of Nevada, about 50 miles north-east of Las Vegas.  This area was a spiritual favourite of my
 friend, Marvin GrayEagle.