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830 pages, Kindle Edition
First published October 25, 2016
We who listened [to Black Elk’s prayer] now noted that thin clouds had gathered about us. A scant chill rain began to fall and there was low, muttering thunder without lightning. With tears running down his cheeks, the old man raised his voice to a high thin wail, and chanted: “In sorrow I am sending a feeble voice, O Six Powers of the World. Hear me in my sorrow, for I may never call again. O make my people live!”
For some minutes the old man stood silent, with face uplifted, weeping in the drizzling rain.
In a little while the sky was clear again.