In Denver I saw a man cry, a local wanderer, a warrior.
Arapaho and wandering like the days of old.
Unlike like the days of old, modern demons
swam through the veins,
keeping bound what should be free,
yet, somehow not stifling the virtue or passion of the warriors heart.
In Denver there is a camping ban. No sleeping outside within city limits.
This ban seems to have existed since 1859, the beginnings of the gold rush.
The ban has been violently enforced (The Massacre of
Sand Creek) and resisted (The Battle of Red Cloud).
I saw the warrior and the wanderer struggle with the choice to hide or fight for his
right to sleep.
I saw a warrior cry. I saw those tears transform and renew. I saw life swimming through the
warriors veins.Recently the wanderer underwent the final relocation, a relocation that for once held true to the
treaty, no camping bans, no greed, no demons.