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Those who Knows the Country,
are gone, as gone as the lore they knew.
Winds of change have driven away their teachings, though slowly it blew.
A sensitive bowing to creature of the wild and their instinct?
Too caring for young, each other, the land, animals, of some I can think.
Some other tribes knew their own ways, different from Ponca,
Our clans too were different from He sah dah to Manchu Ton-kgah.
Those clans today are dwindled to seven or eight,
Lost as lost they are, we no longer in their step walk straight.
Almost nothing remains of the old one's treasured freedom,
From breath of air, clean and clear, to good life and dream.
Sleep so gently our old one's who were peace maker's and warrior,
Protected from the times you are since, we are no longer your carrier.
We cannot touch wrinkles on your brow or, know the knowledge there.
Lost it is to another who tell us they know better ways so much more fair.
Still at the evening of a day full of struggling and strife; we look, we
stare.
Those of us who remember, we question and we wonder. Where? |
