Train ride, in a windowless freight wagon,
rocked back and forth, with the clatter
and vibration as it snaked on the rail score.
Packed shoulder to shoulder,
overpowered by their own stench.
Separated from their families,
unfed, with only snow to eat,
cold, with only the bodies
next to them for warmth,
as the train traveled for days.
Resettlement to the East
It was not fully understood, why?
4/22/2021
The Devil’s apostles with shovel and hoe
Plant their crop of death before Winter’s snow
Fertilizing with bullets row upon rows
A perfect preview of Hell I suppose
Young Hania carries her tiny baby.
Her Nation was forced to relocate.
They had to disassemble their warm Wigwams
and walk away from their Sacred Grounds.
Hundreds of miles, she walks,
holding in her arms, baby called Achachak
for many days. At nights she sleeps on the ground
close to the fire, covered with skins.
Days grow cold, weather is freezing.
Cold and hungry is her son.
Then swift as wolf comes the sickness
and takes the son from her hands.
Should she burry her son among coyotes?
Where should she burry her son,
far away from her Nation’s Sacred Grounds?
She asks Wakan Tanka for help.
Their misery is forceful resettlement.
She asks Elu Wilussit
to save her Nation from madness.
Where should she dig the ground to burry her son?
Her Nation lost its land.
She lost her baby.
Her warrior husband was killed in the fight.
Her despair grows wild.