the seer chief, Yonaguska

THE SEER CHIEF, YONAGUSKA

A gentle flight through the red paints trail and the heavy scent of laurel It is Yonaguska, following the rock path and moss pads He is throwing his voice to his people He once rose like Lazarus with warnings of unrest and whiskey His words are the air ships they follow He is handsome and strong A drop of white blood touches him but he cleanses in the sweat lodge A dozen deaths seek him but he evades them with a fate card There are the wild blackberries There are the silk women There are the unbroken horses And the sweet song of birds Yonaguska is humming his life chant He is lining his people with dreams to carry on a trail of pain The sun is shining like trinity The water is moving in clear leaps When he has spoken, he nods, and cocoons in his blanket He tells his heart to stay still.

Reviews

[Emily B]

I've been reading lately. The adventures of a Quaker who went to teach on the plains in the year 1870. Your words echo the sights he describes. I find the work "spot on" to borrow a phrase from w.k.kortas.