The Ballad of Red Feather

Pretty like the crystalline canyon rocks -

  Fair like a deer wandering in the morn' -

With the Great Spirit as a faithful witness

  A baby girl named Red Feather was born

And for her onyx eyes and ruddy cheeks

  An angel was sent with kisses to adorn.

Her misery began with John Martin -

  A white trader of uncouth demeanor

Who took one day a Navajo woman

  As payment for whiskey and gunpowder

And soon his bride realized an inheritance

  But in so doing died young in labor.

Red Feather lived - lived with a cruel father

  Who cursed her and of her did not boast -

Withholding not his friends who laughed at her

  And was ignored by passersby the most -

Irretrievably lost between two worlds

  That scorned red highlights and native clothes

Until one day when grief overwhelmed her -

  She ran away - against the blinding tears -

Where else but to the village of her mother

  But discovered that they too made jeers

At the sight of her and there enslaved her

  And instead of love - realized her worst fears.

But solace found Red Feather at moments

  When she'd steal away to Spirit Canyon

To gaze upon the weathered petroglyphs.

  Silence touched her heart every now and then

As she'd sit among the lonely rifts

  And consider the Earth with the heavens.

There among them was one where an artist

  Told of the wish of an ancient warrior

To jump the cliff and join the gentle spirits

  That captured Red Feather's awe in particular

And since the life ahead held not her interest

  She soon desired him and her mother

So it happened during one nice spring day:

  The wildflowers breezed as she took the path -

Eagles circled above her at midday

  And Red Feather stood on the edge with wrath -

Embraced the sky and Sun and leapt away -

  Seeking what the next world might have.

Since that time many a wayward Navajo

  And traveler alike claim to have seen

Red Feather come to them - white with glow -

  And swear wholly it was not of a dream

But that she lives - she lives as a ghost

  Wandering along the cliffs and beneath.

So should you come to Navajo Country

  Look sharp - Red Feather's spirit takes flight.

She may run silently with a clan of coyotes

  Or dance in the shadows of your firelight.

She may be the breeze that blows softly

  Or the silver mist that rises at night.