General Poetry posted June 18, 2008


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Hollow Bones- For Fool's Crow

by Mike K2



I headed for the Bad Lands
that fills me with spirit.
I set my tarp, my humble  abode,
homesick to live out in it.

I hear all four directions talking
to me, I pray my thanks to them,
sharing what I see.
My loves, thoughts and desires,
I stand to their scrutiny.

Our mother is our first foundation,
and she provides a firm bed.
That pushes back, gently firming,
comforting my mind and is my stead.

The winds carry upon them the
night sounds all around me.
I hear the winds from miles away,
each ripple joining in  symphony.

The Father of the sky and keeper of
the sun, lets His presence be known.
Torrents of rain, lightning and thunder
scares me not, as seeds of faith were sown.
 
Fool's Crow comes into my mind and
I think of his words and I see
before me, my mind screen.
Tonight I get that special glimpse
into Fool's Crow's life, words and
understanding it seems.

Fool's Crow's medicine bundle was
stolen by his own people and left him
waiting for the Wagon Man to come
from another's home.

I can't help but do his prayer to
Wankintanka for me to become and
receive Him as a hollow bone...




My life has been very interesting. As I was caring for my brain
damaged mother, I was barely getting any rest. Totally distraught, I asked God for help. Just before I slipped off into sleep an Indian would come into my vision. To me it was weird because he was definitely Native American, yet he had white short hair. Though I never understood the conversations, we would talk Sometimes I was buried into the earth with only hole for breathing; other times in a hut woven of willow, not dissimilar to a sweat lodge. Through this there were not only changes, with my perceptions, but my make up.

I purchased a newly published book titled, "Fool's Crow: His Wisdom and Power," written by Thomas E. Mails, ironically a Lutheran Minister. We I received the book I was shocked to see that face portrayed. Needless to say, I paid much closer attention to the book. Thomas Mails previously published one simply titled, "Fool's Crow." During working on that book there were times, he held up his hands and said, "Ho!" It was understood that those conversations were only to be published after Fool's Crow's Passing. I loved the desire to become a hollow bone. One wishes that he is empty, ready to receive Wankan-tanka's and his helpers and energy. I consider myself Christian, but that Christianity has been reinforced as I come upon many beliefs. I start with, "I believe with one God, the Father, the Almighty..." yet hold out the possibility that God understood, many of man's needs and provided for them with a way that would work. One of the most astounding things to me was Fool's Crow was asked about the existence of evil. Fool's Crow explained that evil exists, but only at the invitation of God. Somewhat shocked by this acknowledgment, Mails asked him why and Fool's Crow clearly stated that obviously we have a choice to make. The book is not only filled with contemplations of this, but aspects of his personal life, feelings and talk about the future. It was an honor to me not only to read it, but for Fool's to provide the material to be published.

I am in South Dakota by invitation and thankful for this consideration. I wanted to maximize my visit and attempted to find a liaison from Pine Ridge Reservation in providing me a chance to pay my respects for not only Fool's Crow, but also Iron Hail (Dewy Beard), the last survivor of Wounded Knee. I learned a lot more about that person through a Scoutmaster who spent time on Pine Ridge during his youth. With no direct portal to the council, I regret that my Email to the Chamber of Commence went unanswered.

Through the book other experiences of Fool's Crow were mentioned. One was he was invited to be, "Honored," I believe through a historical museum and he was simply paraded out and shown off. The saddest event to me was the theft of his medicine bundle. Fool's Crow himself lamented that he had none to pass the bundle to someone after dies. Other things mentioned in the poem were of his beliefs and practices.

I also interviewed another person, Frances Packard the third, who is a French and Indian War reencator for the French and Indian war. He is a trapper who assisted the French Army in the execution of that war. In a way, the first world war as it involve France and England and all of their respective colonies. Frances attempted several time to get various Indian tribe to participate as it would be an excellent opportunity to show people the way of their life during that time. Indian tribes declined because that isn't the history that they wanted represented. History includes both the good and the bad that makes up the complete picture. I view it as an honesty issue and if one tries to tailor history, one denies their existence.

"My Humble Abode," is illustrated in my poem of the same name.

Wagon Man is a synonym for the Grim Reaper, that figure that represents death. My guess is this is conjured from the memories of the wagon's coming to remove the dead from the battlefield or disease.

I think of a hollow bone as devoid of life, and being empty it invites God to come in a fill it with substinance. Much like marrow in real life functions.
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