Poem – Dance of Tears, Chief Nobody (By Michael Lee Johnson)

Dance of Tears, Chief Nobody (V5)
By Michael Lee Johnson

I’m old Indian chief story

plastered on white scattered sheets,

Caucasian paper blowing in yesterday’s winds.

 

I feel white man’s presence

in my blindness–

cross over my ego my borders

urinates over my pride, my boundaries–

I cooperated with him until

death, my blindness.

 

I’m Blackfoot proud, mountain Chief.

 

I roam southern Alberta,

toenails stretch to Montana,

born on Old Man River−

prairie horse’s leftover

buffalo meat in my dreams.

Eighty-seven I lived in a cardboard shack.

My native dress lost, autistic babbling.

I pile up worthless treaties, paper burn white man.

 

Now 94, I prepare myself an ancient pilgrimage,

back to papoose, landscapes turned over.

 

I walk through this death baby steps,

no rush, no fire, nor wind, hair tangled−

earth possessions strapped to my back rawhide−

sun going down, moon going up,

witch hour moonlight.

 

I’m old man slow dying, Chief nobody.

 

An empty bottle of fire-water whiskey

lies on homespun rug,

cut excess from life,

partially smoked homemade cigar–

barely burning,

that dance of tears.

 

 

*Music Video Credit:  Native American Indian Music - Sunset Ceremony- Earth Drums 02
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QtdYWcoYKWo

 

[su_michael_lee_johnson]