Powerless Honor (Memoirs of a Tribal Nation)


“Oh Ancestors, sing the song of war,
Of honor to the warriors who continue to fight
The never ending battle, their never ending battle for peace!”
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬_________________________________________________
Dance.
Hena Mi (Rise up).
Move your feet, for the love of a nation.

“Wake up, Love is dead.” Coyote says as he laughs at our new found civil liberties of 1968.
Throwing the Bill of Rights in our face, “Written in a language that we don’t understand,”

Dance…
To honor the death of a people
Hena Mi…
To the dictation of sovereignty
Move your feet and praise
The limiting of our governments, for the selfishness of another nation;

“Kamacchaw,” (listen) the elders say.
And become invisible.
“Submit” and we’ll be saved.
Stop dreaming.
Stop being who we are,
And we’ll be left alone.

Howchia (Eagle Woman) calls us to listen, to the story of an invisible people.
Listen! Do you hear their voices, the voices of the distant ancestors?
Listen closely, its hard to hear the whispering wind.
But, if you are patient enough you can hear the beat
As it whisks by, in one ear and out the other.

“Hear me.” They say.
“Who are these people?” They ask.
“They are unfamiliar, quiet in their distress.
Letting themselves be pushed to the limit,
Their existence limited to the reservation, their honor living on through the stereotypes of tomahawks, scalping, and war woops.
Their dances honor assimilation, genocide and
Economic dependency (through the welfare system and Tribal Casinos),
There is no other way for economic independency.
What happened to the education of our peoples?
What happened to our pride?
What happened to our voices?
What happened to our leaders?
Where are the voices of Crazy Horse and Red Cloud now?
Are they lost in the wind?
What are we to do now?” They cry out.

Do we hear them?
Or are we lost within our own greed?
Have we forgotten who we are?
Have we lost our voices?

Ancestors, can I find my voice?
Can I find my pride?
Can I find the education of my peoples?
Can I dance the honor of life and love?
Can I hope to live for a better tomorrow?
Can I pray that my voice will be heard?

I hear the wind as it goes by….
She tells me to listen,
To be patient, And to dance.

I think I hear the voices of my people in the wind
Asking for help,
My voice is among them.
Ancestors, please give me the strength to cry out.
Ancestors, “Eyya mannay kanni” (don’t forget me).
February 17, 2005