My roots are lost somewhere
In a Louisiana bayou
Amid knees of cypress
And crayfish,
Like a glow worm
Held too long in a jar.
Stuffed under memories
Of relatives, long dormant,
Just above the water line
In an Opelousas cemetery.
Heritage dusted by
Adoption in
Vague repetitions
Of Daniel Boone
And Blackfoot.
In front of televisions
Filled with Roy Rogers
And wagon trains, I heard
The words Great Spirit
And knew Him
Above the chorus of
Hail Mary,
Our Father and
Glory Be.
In black nights of
Soul wandering,
Heyoka came to visit
And made me laugh
In dreams of thunderstorms
Before I knew their names.
Wakinyan brought music
To my heartbeat
Like drums
Pounding in my chest
And spirit.
Fool's Crow was
Kind enough to share
His stories
Of little hollow bones
And personal accounts
Of the Ghost Dance.
Once, as I stood weak,
Death beckoned.
I refused to give up
Because of him.
With Robbie Roberson
Ringing in my ears
I rose again like
The children of the sun.
I walk in traditions
From all my family
Like a body built
Of spare parts and
Super glue.
I will never
Hold an eagle feather
In my possession,
But my heart will
Hear the voice of
The mockingbird that
Sings at midnight
And know who I am
In my oneness with
All creation.
And when we meet
Beyond the red road's end,
I will know my tribe.
Author notes
I was adopted from my biological family when I was 6 mos old. I know very little of my geneology other than we were related to Daniel Boone, and are a Cajun mix of who knows what 
. The only native american connection that was ever mentioned was Blackfoot and that was when I was nearly 40, just before my biological mother passed away.
I have had a connection to things Native since I was a very young girl. Many of the teachings, etc, just always struck a chord with me. My references to Fool's Crow are from his teachings and my reference to Robbie Roberson is from a music CD he did called Music for the Native Americans. On the Disk is a Ghost Dance song that I found great strength of spirit in when I went through some of my darker days. The reference to the eagle feather is the fact that I cannot legally declare myself native american on paper because it is against the law to possess one unless you are a documented Native person.
I am a bit torn on punctuation here. Suggestions are appreciated on punctuation, line breaks, and message clarity.
Written January 20th, 2006
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Comments
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Well Done
Very well done, indeed. You have subtle commentary within some beautiful descriptions here. I especially enjoyed these lines:
"Of relatives, long dormant,
Just above the water line"
That conjures up more than one metaphor for the reader.
Impressive piece.
Norm -
Ooo, thanks so much for the kind words. Of course, sometimes my style varies drastically from piece to piece, but I hope you find stuff you like in the bunch.
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Thanks so much for holding such an inspiring contest
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this is beautifully done, Thistle...and I wouldn't change the lines, the lines breaks and even as to punctuation, I read this aloud and it reads just right to the very breath and pauses for the images conveyed. really wonderful writing. I realize the poem is personal to you, but you have conveyed it in such a way that anyone, everyone could relate to everything you have put forward through your words.
I will be back to read more and more...If this and the poems on your Writer's Page are any indication, you've got a fan in me!
Jo -
Bravo! I loved this one. Very poignant.
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A lot of native americans hid their heritage out of fear. In many cases they assimilated themselves into the white mans world to escape the persecution and try to live normal lives. That is why sometimes geneology is hard to document. I am just glad that they were able to keep enough of the traditions alive to share it with the world. I never really understood a country that claimed to be a --melting pot-- having ill will against any race of people. If the blood in our veins could speak, we would probably all be surprised at the stories it would tell us .
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So glad to hear from you Barb. You are always a brite spot when you stop by. I honestly don't know a lot of details about my background, just bits and pieces that sometimes explain why I make certain connections.
Glad you enjoyed it.
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touched me very much.
My grandmother on my dads side was full blooded Cherokee. And I like you have always been in tune with Mother Earth. A strange thing was my grandmother hid her heritage, never wanting anyone to know she was Native American. And my grandmother on moms side was Romanian and so proud of it. What a difference in people. You write from your heart, I have seen this in your poems. I think that if the Great Spirit could read this poem...you would have the Eagle Feather. -
excellent journey
I am obsessed with my roots, i have managed to trace them to within 10 miles of where i now live, it's spooky, my dad was illegitimate so there my search had to stop, knowing who you are doesn't seem relevant until you reach a certain age then it suddenly becomes really important, i'm so glad you were able to know something of yours, some of mine revolves around paupers graves and victorian workhouses, irish immigrants and the like, all so very sad.
thanks for the lovely walk through your world.
love
barbxx -
This poem conveys your feelings about your heritage in such a beautiful way. Wonderful!
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