poem written while listening to a news documentary on the lakotah devastations of 1862

i'm listening to an MPR story on the
dakotah wars of 1862
the piece about general sibley
and his bitterness in regard to

the native warriors
the native warriors who had had enough
who knew this wasn't to be a  fair game

settlers died
the dominance of the people was nothing
to the anger exacerbated war

big guns came in
a bounty was called
for scalps

little crow was a smart man
but he was not going to give up his hunting land

 lakotah men believed sibley's lies
this was a mistake and the leaders chuckled
along the way
the way of tears
 they were kept in a concentration camp says
the smart sounding young lady
until they managed to get to
crow creek
which was the geographical center of desolation

the lakotah spread out
they started to die
there was a plan for extermination
and it was carried
out

almost

gwen westerman and the wind

blue earth river

the men turned themselves in
it was fate
a terrible deliberate fate
that was certainly conceived ahead of time

lincoln could do little
camp lincoln so nicknamed
is still a place of reservation
a geographical point
named sibley park

wipe out the warriors
spare no murderous way

the hanging was inevitable
the anger was stinking in the air
the hateful fearful

transcript gleanings

38 dakotah names
38 to shame them
38 to reference the civilization of europe

the men chanted together before they fell

tornadoes speak more than words

still only a ride could heal the old wound
still we're devasted for all time
still the most horrendous miscarriage of justice
 in modern memory
still the complex misunderstandings of the Metis

why we're doomed
but go on walking each day
is beyond me

we smell old dust in the wind







.