My Journey
This is a story
About an native American Woman
I had gotten past the sentry
I was free, or it would seem to me
I had now to be self reliant
If I would continue to be free.
I could trust no one
for there would be bounty hunters I'm sure
come what might, I would be free
If I could but endure.
I was glad there was no moon
my skin for what ever reason was light
my mother was a mix with the french
possibly even white,
I traveled for what seemed days
as the dawn of the morning came
I was near a clearing of a wooded area
there was nothing familiar, that was plain
I had just enough light of day
to pick some berries to save for later on.
I decided I would hide in an evergreen
so I wouldn’t be seen at the dawn.
I heard the barking of dogs-praying not
that they be on the hunt for me
From my perch high up in the branches
there was an isolated farm house, I could see.
The day was long ahead,
sleep over took my resolve to be alert
I had scratches over my legs and arms
but was not other wise hurt.
I awoke with a start, the sun was bright
a commotion just past the clearing
squirrles an birds chattering, then fell silent
as the sound of gunshots was I hearing
The birds fluttered to the sky
Oh I wish like them to fly
I would get to safety some where
or maybe this is where I should die.
I saw one lone figure
a man with gun.... hair of flaming red.
A hunter after all, tracking small game
to keep his family fed.
There was still a light dusting of spring snow
I hoping I had left no tracks--- I prayed
I could not tell from my place in the tree
what might have been the death of me.
If there was, I never knew
for there were no more shots to the air
Thank God of the White man who watches all
You truly see every where.
The passing of the day was other wise
un eventful at best
I was hungry and sore eating what
was left of the berries,I fell again to rest.
The wind was beginning to blow hard
I pulled my shawl tight around
evening was approaching and
I needed to stretch
as I quietly slipped to the ground.
Just enough light still left to forge for nuts
that would carry me through the night
Father had taught me how to catch game
there was no way to cook it,
dast not have a fire light.
I guess we hadn't lived like many Indians
who tracked and killed game at will
and the thought of some little rabbit
being food, I had to kill.
Contrary to the beliefs of the white,
we were not a tribe of the nomad
We had family life in one place
we worked the land we had.
We planted more then hunted
we lived in home oft times
of wood or adobe
we didn’t use game and move on
we had accepted responsibility,
some still lived the old ways
not speaking words of the white
and for those that called us dirty
or stupid would be surprised to know
we could read and write.
Oh father, which way should I go
I don’t know direction like you
How you would say,
my little twinkling star
Ask of the White mans
God to lead you. too.
so I did
Father from the Blue sky
Help me find my way to freedom
show this child of cheif Akachunka
the way You chose for me.
Hoping he heard me
I pressed on Lead Me O great God
take me to a place
where your own feet have trod.
amen
I made my way around the farm house
with out stirring the barking dog
How much miles I had walked I didn’t know
as I made way through a dense fog.
I heard the squeeching of
a barn owl over head
Oh to be a little child again
and to slumber in peace
with family in my bed.
No time left for self pity
onward to where only God knew
I must move fast and far
as a girl on foot could do.
sandy griffin
Used with permission
http://www.our.homewithgod.com/sandra
http://poetrypoem.com/inhimthroughhimforhimsandy
Thank you for walking this path with me!
1-19-2009
