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Reader Contributions
Reader Contributions
R I P
by Jerry Fuller
When you’re a long way from home, in a land you can’t call your own,
Your thoughts sometimes roam,
to places you’ve seen, and places you wish to go,
most of all, to the memories of those you love so!
As I look back over the years, I know I was instilled,
with pride, respect, and confidence!
I was taught to work hard and always have a future plan!
I felt a need, so of UNCLE SAM’S calling, I took heed!
I was doing something I knew MUST be done!
I became one of the chosen few!
Now as the battles rage, in my heart, you still hold center stage!
And forever I will always be, a young soldier, fighting for a just cause!
May you each day pause, and thank God, for the others that feel just like me ,
about LIBERTY!!!
Don’t call me a hero, just take my memory, wherever you go!
And when they offload my flag draped coffin from the plane,
don’t dismay!!!
Remember, I did my best, so you and others can remain free!!!
And now, I like so many others gone before,
REST IN PEACE!!
MAY GOD BLESS AMERICA!!!
Trail of Tears - Seen Through a Child's Eyes
by Marilyn Beal-Bauer
I am only six summers old
I am too cold to walk in
sandals upon the deep snow.
Don't the light-skinned men on horses see this?
I have watched them with their children - so kind.
But I have never seen them like this - so cold - as cold as ice.
I don't understand why we are
leaving our warm homes.
It's so confusing.
I don't understand anything anymore.
I'm too afraid to ask my mother
what's happening to our lives.
I don't even recognize mymother's face.
Her face has become hardened and carved like wood.
So much like my dolls I had to leave behind.
Just like my dolls, her face resembles knotty-pine.
I miss my dolls.
This is wrong!
We shouldn't be forced to do this.
So many of us have died.
I wish I could make sense
of what's the reason for this -
I'm confused - what did we do to
deserve this? I can't think of any bad thing
we did to the light-skinned man. I am
so frightened forme, my mother and my tribe.
I am only six summers old.
I do not want to die.
Even our wise old elders do not speak.
I see them only cry and plead.
Our strong, young, brave warriors
cannot stop the soldier's march.
when they try to talk reason,
the soldiers just shool, turn on their horses
and leave our braves to bleed, to die.
We cannot bury them - the soldiers say "There's no time".
So we walk and grieve.
My father died the very first day.
Since that day, my mother's face has not changed.
He bravely faced a soldier face to face.
My father spoke two white man's words, "Have mercy"
And in the reply the soldier shot him in the face.
I am only six summers old
but I think I don't like the pale-skinned face.
The White Owl
(Dorsimbra)
He felt the haunting lure of spectral bird
As told by Tribal Chief in mournful ode.
His lovely bride remembered every word
Of doom foretold, to those where it abode
If came silently
from out the dark
ethereal creature
with moondisk face.
They found the snow-white owl one winter's night
Atop the house, as though it meant to stay.
That Spring he stood beside a floral mound...
He felt the haunting lure of spectral bird.
White Buffalo
(Villanelle)
One summer day when earth was bethed in light
And bison roamed the plains and grassy land,
A lovely maiden came, all dressed in white.
She told Lakota Tribe they should not fight
And held a wooden peace pipe in her hand,
One summer day when earth was bathed in light.
She stayed four days - a fair and wondrous sight.
They blessed the day, when midst their tribal band,
A lovely maiden came, all dressed in white.
She left the pipe then paused before her flight
And rolled four times upon the glistening sand,
One summer day when earth was bathed in light.
She changed into a bison, black as night
Then red, to yellow, white - at her command
A lovely maiden came all dressed in whte.
They say, she will return and st things right
This *Buffalo - so sacred, pure and grand.
One summer day when earth was bathed in light
A lovely maiden came all dress in white.
Lou Gatlin
The Lakota Indian Tribe felt that this prophecy was fulfilled when a white female buffalo
cdalf was born on a rural farm in, Janesville, Wis. Aug. 23, 1994. They named her
Miracle. In the six years since her birth, more than 250,000 poilgrims have come to the
farm just to seee the white buffalo. They consider her sacred. Miracle has changed color
four times. They believe if she survives to age 30, she will turn white again heralding
world peace, as prophesied by the beautiful woman dressed in white buckskin who carried a
wooden peace pipe.
*Wichita Falls Times Record News, Dec. 11, 1999
Indian Warrioress
by Marilyn Beal-Bauer
If you call me a "squaw",
I'll spit in your face.
It's a white man's word - we both know what it
means.
We are strong, We are proud.
We are intelligent and brave.
When hurt we don't cry.
Our faces become stone.
We do not lose face.
When our men turn to drink, they turn to
renegade.
They blacken our eyes, but we bloody their faces.
We are educated in an uneducated way by our
elder's wisdom not put down on page.
Their stories, their chants, their knowledge of
plants.
They teach us, they heal us. They remain in our
hearts. They never will fade as long as an Indian Warrioress remains. We remember forever.
My children, be not afraid. Your Indian
warrioress is here to stay.
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