Perhaps shadows from tallow candles
darted against lodge walls
and smokehole peaks like does the
candle flame on this table flickers
in time to the accentuated breaths of
the flute player ...
Perhaps these Hidatsa-Mandan strains
have been heard upon this very land
two hundred years ago,
perhaps a thousand,
and the land needs to hear it again.
Comments
Amazing writing!
The poem is elegant, poignant and both despair and hopeful joy.
Thank you for bringing this work out of candlelight and into sunshine.