the war fires danced that night
throwing shadows on our wall
your eyes fill with worry as
i apply my war paint,
the intermingled symbols of live and death.
the drums dance to our heartbeats as i hold you close
"I will come back." I promise
you hold me tighther.
I am the white-indian, a man of honour
the man who loved you.

I pick up my rifle and stand with the other raiders.
Our bodies painted in efigies and swirls, our hair set with feathers.
I kiss you goodbye before I lead my brothers silently in the night.
We flit ghost-like through the still leafy trees,
silent, desturbing nothing.
We are Enape, we are warriors.
we fall on the enemy our rifles echoing across the land
our arrows blott out the stars
A defiant war cry, we charge the enemy.
Guns fire. Silence.

I return to you, sweat mingling my war paint
eyes burning fiercly. We carry back our wounded and the dead.
You watch as the painted faces lined in pain
are soothed beneath this I-yan's loving hand.

"I will fight no more" my words are hollow,
you know I cant keep that promise.
I am Enape in all but blood,
more indian than white.
You hold me, but for the last time.
Our time is ended.
I am he whose spirit is free with love to give, but none who need.
I am Enape. I am me.