Ohio & N. Kentucky Indian Issues
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Dekanogi Ulogilv Williams
what do WE know of "pain"?
Sun Jun 5, 2011 6:55pm

Silent Night!

Standing watch above the camp, He Walks Crooked, knew their lives depended on the warriors staying alert, ten miles, that day they traveled, with many old ones, and small children.

Slashing rain, laced with ice, did not make for easy footing, hard, and cold the wind was blowing, pushing them onward, ever forward, searching, for a place to rest, that would give a little shelter.

Against the hillside, beneath the cedars, no fire was built for food, or comfort, grateful, for the branches breaking the wind at least a little, stacking deadfall, to ward away the falling water.

Gathered close for warmth, huddled in misery, and despair, knowing, if caught, their lives were over, there would be no quarter offered, they must move on, before the coming of daylight.

The old break in his leg was aching, reminding him, he was no youngster, but bringing memories of times, that were much better, as slowly, he rubbed the coldness from it.

Anger, brought a flush of heat, a need to fight, drove him to his feet, moving softly, never still, this raging pain, that could find no release, crushing his spirit, his need for action unfulfilled.

The warriors, could not stand, and fight, until those they protected, were someplace safe, so ever westward they traveled, into the sunset, far from home, and all they knew, and loved.

Yet, better this, than the slaughter, sure to come, if they stopped, well he knew, as the thoughts of his wife, and children, filled his head, lying there, bloody on the ground.

Two sisters, were all that was left, their children must be saved, if he stopped to think, he would lose his mind, and do no one, any good, and his kin, needed every man.

One more hour, then they must go, the soldiers would find them, if they were slow, once they had refused to be corralled like cattle, there was no choice but fight, or run.

Scattered now, to the Four winds, so many of his beloved kin, some, placed in the death forts, some, murdered in their homes, with no shame, what was left, must be kept whole.

Arkansas, or Texas, such strange names, for places he had no wish to visit, to go home, and sit, at his own fire, be surrounded by the warmth, and goodness of his family, was that too much?

Suddenly he stiffened, what was that noise, was something moving in the darkness, just mouse, come out to forage, her family too, needed a hunter, but the sight, brought tears of sorrow.

So simple, it all seemed, build a home, hunt, pray, and defend your kin, take each day for its value, give all that could help another, and never, take what does not belong to you.

What went wrong with his world, where was the justice, to right this abuse, strangers came, and took it all by force, killing children, without thought, bringing an end, to humankind.

And yet, the Elders say, stay strong, and keep tradition, tell the stories to your children, even separated from your Peoples, hiding among the enemy is easy, just pretend to be them.

Never, forget you are Aniyunwiyv, walk proud, and remember your ancestors, take what you must, of their culture, but do not allow your own to perish, one day, you will regain your rightful heritage.

One day, there will come a time of Balance, you will be called, to cleanse Mother Earth, for you, are her Keepers, carry the fire always with you, keep a small spark in the embers.

All they faced, and died for, all the agony, they walked through, has meaning, only, if you, their grandchildren, are willing to fight on, to carry in some small way, their memory, into the future!


In this world, are many mountains
those made by Creator, are rock, and dirt,
those made, by the hands of man
are always, made of hurt.

In this world, are many rainbows
their colors, bright, and bold
this shinning gift, was given in love
it is the symbol, of faith, and hope.

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