High on Devil's Peak, over looking the Painted Canyon
Stands an old man withered by time
But not in his spirit
It has taken him three long moons to reach this sacred spot
This Holy Land of The People
There has been many a Great Chief stand in this very spot
That he has now stood for eighty long years
After a short rest he tends to his faithful friend
Removes the dusty old blanket from his back
And two rolled blankets with important Ceremonial Attire
He then takes the rope reigns from his steed's head
With several soft pats to his neck
He gives him his freedom to do as he pleases
It's time to gather some kindling for a fire
As he walks around picking up a piece here and a piece there
Thoughts and reflections of years past
Come forth like an old movie reel in flickers of lights
The fire is now prepared
From one rolled bundle
That has been tied carefully with thin strips of rawhide
Is opened and rolled out gingerly
He has gone through this routine many a year
But this year, holds more of a meaning
The first holds his finest Fringed buckskin Leggings
Adorned in shells, bells, beads and small feathers
Made by his wife some forty years back
A Breast Guard adorned in feathers, beads and Bear Claws
Arm Bands, Jewelery and his Ceremonial Pipe
He now dresses, each piece blessed as he goes along
The fire is started with dry Prairie Grass and Flint Stones
Then his aged hands cup the spark
He gently blows upon the smoke
And waits for the red embers to glow
A few bigger sticks are added and then you hear the crackling
Of the green wood releasing its moisture
There is such a sweet aroma as the fire takes hold
Larger pieces of wood are added to carry it through the night
Now for the second blanket
It's laid out and rolled open as he says a prayer
This is his crowning glory
With one hand holding the heavy beaded top band
It is unfurled to the length of six feet plus
He whirls it around so it blows open in the breeze
With all the pride in his soul, he places it upon his head
This is his Headdress, A War Bonnet like no other
Made with several hundred Eagle Feathers
He now retrieves his pipe
Made from the antlers of his first Elk Buck taken
Now he steps proudly to the edge of devil's Peak
Lights the pipe and blows the herb to the four corners
The sky has turned golden with the horizon set in fire
The clouds are billowy and laced with the fire of the setting sun
Truly this land was painted by the hands of the Gods
Hence the given name, Painted Canyon
Across the plains, down in the valley and across the river so wide
This blessed land holds every earth tone color imaginable
Greens, reds, blues, orange and amber, hues not named
Dressed in Full Regalia
Holding his pipe in both hands raises his arms to the Heavens
A breeze from behind begins to blow
It's just strong enough for the leaves on the trees
To sound as if they're enchanted and join in song
Across this fiery red and orange painted sky
A flock of wild geese add their song in chorus and their beauty
To this painted sky across the sacred Canyon
This is when the Old Chief raises his voice to the Heavens above
He trumpets loudly his name
"I am Chief Running Wolf"
There is an echo in the distance as to confirm his title
He pauses, for the clouds have moved into formations
Within these billowy clouds a faint vision begins to form
Within this forming, this vision
His aged eyes can see the outlines of the
( GUARDIAN SPIRITS )
The Warrior
The Wolf The Bear The Eagle
The Buffalo
"This is good medicine", He murmurs
In the distance, far beyond the Black Hills
There is the faint sound of drums
Made by the thunderous hoof beats of the Buffalo
Running across the plains by the thousands of thousands
They are in slow motion across the horizon
Running Wolf then speaks again
He calls out to each Guardian spirit
As he raises the Ceremonial Pipe to honor each one
He is speaking to the Four Winds that they also represent
"Oh Mighty Forefather's"
He takes a breath
"Now I stand before you, as I have so many times before
Only this time my heart carries a heavy burden
I am sadden that each and everyday
We, The People of this land, Our Home and Your Home
Lessons by one everyday"
Just then the fire makes loud crackling noises
Sparks rise and jump into the air over head
This action, accents his importance and urgency
He begins again
"The young ones, our future has lost their way
No longer do our children wish to know the way of our Nations
There are those who try to teach the tongue of our People
It falls on deaf ears"
He pauses once again, he takes a deep breath
He needs to gather strength to carry on his plea
"The Women cry and the elders have given there all
They teach the old ways, in hopes to carry it to the future
Our crafts, our livelihoods are useless"
"You, The Wolf, once free to game and to run the four winds
Are but one or two where once there were thousands
The Mighty and Powerful Buffalo
How you use to be seen roaming miles wide,
As far as the eyes could see, are but a hand full and are caged"
"The Prophecy of the White buffalo!
Has been born, The People are waiting for the Miracle
The Eagle, once stood on cliffs and tree tops across the Lands
As the symbol of our freedom and strength
Your cries are no longer heard from mountain to mountain
All that I say to you this very day, Is True"
"The Beaver are gone, the Wild horse is no more
My Heart is sad, as Chief I can do nothing
As a Nation, We, The People have NO RIGHTS!
Guardian Spirits, What can we do"
Chief Running Wolf, lowers his head
He now begins to sing in his native tongue
Delayed echo's seem to bounce to hill to hill and valleys below
The sound and the beat of drums begin to swell
The breeze now has turned to wind and swirls the smoke
Around his body and twirls over his head
This is a spiritual moment up on Devil's Peak
"I am to old to do any good any longer
And my time is at hand
Soon a new Chief will take my place
This could be a good thing,
For change is the way of the wind
I will fade into a lost land as our People have"
Higher and higher the smoke spirals to the sky
The wind blows his Headdress and looks like Eagle want to take flight.
"I have lived for more than eighty moons
And I have seen our life as it is
We, The People, The Human Beings
Have seen pain, misery and cruelty
By the hands of the White Man
We live in the streets like bundles of filth
Hunger is felt and there is singing in the churches of the White Man
What messages are being taught in there?"
"Even our young men and women die or get mangled
Fighting in another country that isn't even theirs
This is Our Country, We need to fight for our land
We need to fight for the RIGHT TO LIVE!
I know of soldier's who have died in the arms of their brothers
Before they died, they were asking the Question
WHY?"
"I don't think they were asking why am I dying?
But Why They had EVEN lived at all."
"I say unto you now
For to see life as it is now
I would rather see it, AS IT SHOULD BE!"
by Richard Lee Cook
Copyright 2011
An SILVERFEATHER Creation
