She was memory,
her momma had said.
The sum of all that had come before
and had too soon, gone;
She was ebony hair--
flying with her sister wind.
Her eyes, the black grey of wolves--
held that faraway look.
Wearing moccasins her grandmother had made--
from cured buffalo hide.
She'd given them to her right before she died,
on that disease infested reserve--
where there was no sunlight or joy.
She always kept two Eagle feathers with her,
one to remember her murdered father;
The other to respect the bravery of her people,
whose fighting spirit still coursed her veins.
She was an outsider in her own land--
proof of all that had been taken;
A testament to inner fortitude
and an unwanted reminder--
of the white man's cruelty.
Yes, she was memory,
vibrant and alive with history;
And she stood tall and proud,
in the face of all those who would--
rewrite her past...
In a list
A contest entry
- Character, Analogy, Story by CarolDesjarlais.
875 points, ended June 14, 2008, 8 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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fantastic writing. You capture so much in this.
Rory
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well done
Flows nicely. Well descriptive. Thought provoking.
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I know I did comment, I remember now... where it went is beyond me....
I know that I said, this is an important poem.... full of knowing at cellular level. We carry those strengths and memories, I truly do believe. Yes...her name is indeed Memory...anc we carry her yet.
Sorry...I know this is what I said...strange, strange....
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Bunny this is thunder, to weave in blanket's trust as thirst, the lines of what was sad and powerful
just wonderful...
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i love your story poems, you write them with such a strong point of view and give them powerful characteristics Love, C
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