Wakjakaga's River Race

Self-deceit even brings down the gods--Intellectual honesty, my father's most ardent lesson

 

 

Photograph by Ian Britton.  Made available through www.freefoto.com and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.  The photo is available at http://www.freefoto.com/images/1221/06/1221_06_10_prev.jpg.

 

 

Wakjakaga’s River Race

 

                           I 

 

Come my children, gather ‘round me!

Hear the story I shall tell you!

Calm your laughter and your playing.

Sit you quiet and contently.

Hear the loon call and the night birds.

Hear the distant tom-tom beating.

Hear the echo of the Old Ones

And their bold tales worth repeating.

 

                           II                    

 

Now as night falls, see our lodge fire.

Bright with sparks, the fire is dancing.

Listen now and learn a lesson.

Listen well to hear completely!

Hear a story of the woodlands,

Of the mountains and the plainslands,

As the tom-tom beats intently

And the heart repeats so gently.

 

                           III                  

 

Hear how Trickster, Wakjakaga,

Called by Ponca Ishtinike,

Ichto-mi his name Dakotan,

He the schemer, He the Spider,

He the sly Mink, the Coyote,

How His own lies cursed His being,

He nąčgéstak, now heart-flattened,

Why in grief He cries forever.

 

 

                           IV                 

 

Be this story long remembered,

In the lodge tales of our people!

Be these cautions well regarded,

That we not befall the same fate.

Listen now and learn how His fate,

By His own hand, it was crafted!

Self-deceit alone destroyed Him,

Sealed His doom and killed his love mate.

 

                   ***          ***

 

                           V                    

 

From Mą’ųna, the Earthmaker,

Sprung his first son, Wakjakaga.

Kúnu, First-Born, Hočąk call him.

It was He that pushed the pathways

Of Wakčéxi, Waterspirits,

Deep below ground, deep He pushed them!

He then ate the Evil Spirits,

And to Heaven He ascended.

 

                           VI                 

 

But before Trickster ascended,

Long before, when Earth first started,

After Man was first created,

Spirit Father charged His First-Born:

“Go to Earth, now, and protect Man

From Bad Spirits and Earth’s creatures.

Now I charge You to protect Him,

Man, most weak of all creation.”

 

                           VII               

 

But these duties were not for Him,

For no stomach had He for them.

He as worthless as an infant,

Crawling ‘bout the floor on all fours.

Foolish, foolish Wakjakaga,

Now a trickster, now a schemer!

How can You at last befriend Man

As Mą’ųna, Father, wishes?

 

                      ***          ***

 

                           VIII             

 

On a bright day, late in summer,

Kúnu walked down to the River.

There he sat long, lost in daydream,

Dreaming midst the buzz of insects.

Then He heard the distant laughter,

Distant at the edge of hearing.

Walking from a forest clearing,

Came six lovely maidens laughing.

 

                           IX                  

 

How his heart rose when he saw them,

Bathing in the river waters,

All as pretty as a moonbeam,

These must be the fair Moon’s daughters.

Then a seventh, she appeared then,

At the clearing by the water,

And her beauty stole His heartbeat,

Stole His eyes from all the others.

 

                           X                    

 

Wakjakaga rose with courage

Walked He tall and made His way, then,

Toward the seven, toward the maiden,

Toward the one that stirred His spirit.

“Wakirihókere, Spider,

I do call You and Your magics.

Spin a web to catch me that one!”

Chanted First-Born, now the bold one.

 

                           XI                  

 

Then the maidens in the water

They did spy Him, they did see Him,

And now frightened, left the water;

Lost in fear, they all departed.

Now that only left the seventh.

She just stood there, faintly trembling.

Something held her, something stopped her,

She with fear shook, yet not moving.

 

                           XII               

 

Now did Wakjakaga face her.

Now did Wakjakaga touch her,

She still trembling, she still fearful.

Now the First-born drew her to Him.

Kúnu now did still her shaking.

Kúnu now did reassure her,

Stopped her shaking with His strong arms,

Stopped her fearing with His soft words.

 

                           XIII             

 

Now the First-Born spoke in this way,

“In My dreams, there I have seen you!

I have heard your gentle laughter.

You are like sunbeams on water,

Always dancing, always cheerful.

You’re as happy as friend Otter,

Rascal Tošónogèga.

Now I choose you, sunlight’s daughter!”

 

                           XIV             

 

And with Spider’s magic working,

She did love Him, She did hold Him.

And He called her name Haxįho,

She the Sunflower! How he loved her!

And the mated pair was happy,

All that summer, in the woodlands.

And the happy pair shared secrets

Under starlight on cool evenings.

 

                           XV               

 

And the days passed to September,

Moon Elk Whistling, Moon Elk Calling.

Now it was the end of Summer,

Well past August, Moon Corn Popping.

Then did First-Born go out boasting,

By the River, He was walking.

“My canoeing is the fastest!

None can beat my čųčewewač.”

 

                           XVI             

 

Blackbirds now called, “Wakjakaga!”

The čočąna called in this way,

“Is it true, oh Brother Kúnu,

On the River none can beat You?”

Now the bear called, “Wakjakaga!”

The hakáka, spoke, he, thusly,

“Is it true my friend, oh First-Born,

On the Rapids none can best You?”

 

                           XVII          

 

Most annoyed, spoke Wakjakaga,

“It is true. Yes, on the waters

My čųčewewač is fastest,

Even faster than Wakčéxi!

Yes, indeed, I am the fastest,

Faster even than the Fishes.

So I challenge! I do now say,

There is no one who can best Me.”

 

                           XVIII        

 

Now arose the Great White Sturgeon,

Chief of Fishes, taking Man-form.

The White Sturgeon, Nahųskaga,

To the First-Born, He spoke thusly,

“I accept, most boastful Kúnu,

I accept your challenge gladly,

Soon you’ll sleep with all My Fishes

With the Ho you’ll drown so sadly.”

 

                           XIX             

 

Now this angered Wakjakaga,

And he stood there, stood there fuming.

Then he lifted up his visage,

Stood there boldly, stood there firmly.

Then the First-Born He spoke thusly,

“I will bet You, River Spirit,

My čųčewewač is fastest.

I will best You on the Rapids!”

 

                           XX               

 

The Great Sturgeon, Nahųskaga,

Hid His smile, then, held his laughter,

For among all River Spirits,

He was thought as being fastest.

He then answered Kúnu this way,

“You are brash and bold, oh Kúnu!

If you think You’re River Master

Bet, You, something You hold dearly!”

 

                           XXI             

 

“I will bet You, this, My war club,”

Said the First-Born, boasted Kúnu.

“That will not do,” said the Great Fish,

“We’ll bet treasures, treasures only.

If You dare, now, bet Haxįho.

Bind her firmly, bind her tightly.

Take her with You on the big race.

With Your skill there’d be no danger.”

 

                           XXII           

 

Then smiled Sturgeon, Nahųskaga,

He a sly one, like Coyote.

Wakjakaga paused, then answered,

“I will do this; there’s no danger!

I shall best You, River Spirit!"

Then the Sturgeon, the Great White Fish,

He did ask Him, He asked Kúnu,

“And when You win, what will You take?”

 

                           XXIII        

 

“I need nothing,” boasted Kúnu,

“I need nothing You can give Me!

All I want is for Your Fishes,

All to see You lose this big race.”

Then the warriors, they departed.

One went this way, One went that way.

Kúnu turned, He, toward the forest.

Great Fish turned, He, to His Fishes.

 

                           XXIV        

 

Wakjakaga, He was angered.

Anger gripped Him; anger shook Him.

He’d defeat the River Spirit

In his faithful čųčewewač.

But if he failed, which couldn’t happen,

He would call His Spirit Father.

He would help Him win the big race.

He can’t fail, that wouldn’t happen!

 

                           XXV          

 

Wakjakaga, He was thinking

Plans now filled Him; ideas moved Him.

He’d defeat the Great White Sturgeon

In his nimble čųčewewač.

Yet if He failed, which wouldn’t happen,

He would call His woodland brothers.

They would help Him win the big race.

He wouldn’t fail, that couldn’t happen!

 

                           XXVI        

 

And if this failed, He’d call the Fishes

He had been their brother always!

He’d defeat Great Nahųskaga,

In his birchbark čųčewewač.

For if all failed, which couldn’t happen,

He would call on his Fish brothers.

They would help Him win the big race.

He couldn’t fail, that just can’t happen!

 

                           XXVII      

 

Calls, He, then, into the Forest,

“Forest brothers, I beseech you,

Listen to Me, I do need you,

Need your aid to best the Great Fish!”

From the quiet of the Forest

Came the sound of creatures talking,

Called the creatures to each other,

Talking to their woodland brothers.

 

                           XXVIII  

 

Then appeared from out ‘ the forest,

Cunning Čašįk, He the sly Mink.

Rising up upon His hind legs

Spoke the sly Mink, He, in this way

“I will help you, Wakjakaga!

We will beat Great Nahųskaga

In your trusty čųčewewač.”

And the First-Born, He did thank Him.

 

                           XXIX        

 

Now, there came then from the woodlands

Wakirihókere, Spider.

She the spinner, She the binder,

Treacherous, Her pathways always!

“I will help you, Wakjakaga!

We’ll defeat brave Nahųskaga;

I will help You pass these waters!”

Wakjakaga, He did thank Her.

 

                           XXX           

 

Finally came then, deep from wood glens,

Came now wily Čarakuga,

He the stealthy, He the sly Fox,

He a trickster, as they all were.

“I will help you, Wakjakaga!

We’ll defeat the Great White Sturgeon;

I will help You to defeat Him.”

And high Kúnu, He did thank Him.

 

                           XXXI        

 

Now the next step, how to bind her?

How would He bind fair Haxįho?

How to do it, do it slyly,

Take her in His čųčewewač?

Stealth it must have, must be gentle!

He’ll not harm her, she’ll not suffer.

Come she must, as there’s no danger.

He must vanquish the Great White Fish.

 

                           XXXII      

 

Then He called again to Spider

“Use your magics, in sleep bind her!”

And friend Spider nodded gladly,

She’d send sleep to bind Haxįho.

It was night now, far from morning.

They would sleep now, then near dawning,

They would capture fair Haxįho,

And then take her to the River.

 

                           XXXIII    

 

Now near sunrise, Wakjakaga,

He stood thinking; He stood doubting.

Should he bind the fair Haxįho?

Take her full bound to the River?

Then a hawk call ends his thinking,

Wakes Him to the tasks before Him.

Yes, He’d bind her; there’s no danger.

He must best the River Spirit!

 

                           XXXIV  

 

Creeps, He, now into to His long lodge

Hears ‘ breath of Haxįho sleeping

With his palm placed over her eyes

Close, they, with deep sleep of dreaming.

Wakjakaga stills her spirit,

Wakjakaga slows her breathing

With the magic of sly Spider

Wakjakaga tightly binds her.

 

                           XXXV      

 

Waits White Sturgeon at the River.

It is past the time appointed.

“Wakjakaga, You are quite late!

Doubt, You, now Your reckless challenge?”

First-Born fumed now, fire his eyes held,

He defiant, now so angry.

Bore He bound up fair Haxįho.

Close behind Him were His three aids.

 

                           XXXVI  

 

Gently putting down Haxįho,

Cuddled in canoe, He placed her,

First-born turned to face the Great Fish,

First-Born, spoke to Him then this way,

“I have come here for this challenge.

Doubt, You, not My deep commitment.

I shall show You I am better!

I shall best You, Nahųskaga.”

 

                           XXXVII                     

 

Nahųskaga, now near laughing,

“First-Born, I just can’t believe You!

Will You not give up this folly?

Forget pride and save Your love mate!”

Wakjakaga, now was fuming!

He could not believe that Great Fish,

That He feared not He’d be losing,

Losing face with all of His Fish.

 

                           XXXVIII                   

 

Finally, the big race started.

Great White Sturgeon, He surged forward,

Wakjakaga right behind Him,

Pushing on the River Spirit.

Through the hours, First-Born tired.

He could not keep up the fast pace.

“Wakjakaga, are You slowing?”

Called back smiling Nahųskaga.

 

                           XXXIX    

 

Now the waters picked up their pace.

Here the rapids, grew, they, treacherous.

Nahųskaga, He smiled wider,

Calling back in this way, taunting,

“Wakjakaga, You are tired!

Make Your way unto the shoreline.

There’s no way that You can best Me,

But at least You’ll save Your love mate!”

 

                           XL                

 

Then at last called Wakjakaga,

To His Father, the Earthmaker,

“Dearest Father, see My plight here,

Give Me strength to win this big race.”

But from Heaven came no answer.

Heard, He, only rush of River.

From the sky came only silence.

He alone must win this big race.

 

                           XLI              

 

Then He called unto His boat mates,

“Čašįk, Wakirihókere,

Čarakuga, paddle with Me,

For no strength have I left in Me.

His companions stared back blankly.

Shirked, they, back and hid their faces.

It was clear they would not help Him.

He alone must win the big race.

 

                           XLII            

 

Then He called unto the Fishes,

“My Ho brothers help and push Me!

I have always been your brother

And I’ve loved you beyond others!”

But the Fishes did not answer.

Heard, He, only rush of River!

From the waters only silence.

He alone must win this big race.

 

                           XLIII         

 

Then the River and its waters

They tossed Kúnu’s čųčewewač,

Tossed it this way, tossed it that way,

Surged it forward, then pushed backward!

In the air flew Wakjakaga.

In the air flew fair Haxįho.

In the air flew his companions,

Fell, they, in the raging waters.

 

                           XLIV         

 

Then He cried out, Wakjakaga.

He must save his love, Haxįho.

But with arms tired, He can’t save her;

He was helpless on the River.

And defenseless, fair Haxįho,

Precious Sunflower, she did sink down,

Sink into the raging River,

She was pulled down to the Great Fish.

 

                           XLV           

 

Then the waters pushed the First-Born,

Pushed the First-Born and the others.

And the Ho, the Fish, did help them

Reach the safety of the shoreline.

And there limply they did crawl up,

Wakjakaga and his brothers.

Coughing water with exhaustion

Wakjakaga, He stood up.

 

                           XLVI         

 

Now with wails, cries Wakjakaga

And the shakes of grief run through Him!

Now with tears does Wakjakaga,

Filled with anger, curse His own fate.

Now with war club strikes, He, downward,

Breaks in shards His čųčewewač.

Into pieces His canoe breaks,

And His soul is rent by heartache.

 

                           XLVII       

 

Now kneels Kúnu, stooped with grieving,

Slumps He more, His spirit broken!

Falls He now beside the River,

With its lapping waves that touch Him.

He is broken, filled with heaving.

Quiet tears, they now fall from Him.

Nevermore ‘ her love caress Him!

Nevermore ‘ her laughter bless Him!

 

                           XLVIII    

 

To His knees, then, Trickster rises,

Then He stands and looks, He, skyward.

“Spirit Father, why forsake Me?

Why forsake Me when I sought you?”

Answers then the Spirit Father,

“Wakjakaga, You do know this!

I do not in Man-things meddle.

That was why to Earth I sent You!”

 

                           XLIX         

 

He then turns unto His boat mates,

Sitting cold beside the water,

“Čašįk, Wakirihókere,

Čarakuga, why not aid Me?”

Then together they did tell Him,

“First-Born, please, you know our Natures!

We are schemers, we are tricksters.

We came for the glory only!”

 

                           L                     

 

Kúnu turns, then, to the waters

To the Fish, the Ho, He calls then,

“My friend Fishes, why not help Me?

I have been Your brother always!”

Then the Ho call back in this way,

“Please, Kúnu, we couldn’t help you,

For it was our Chief You challenged

And traversed Wakčéxi pathways.”

 

                           LI                   

 

Then the Spirit of the water,

The White Sturgeon, Nahųskaga,

Rose to speak with Wakjakaga,

And that Spirit spoke in this way,

“Wakjakaga, hear my laughter!

You are foolish, not a sly one.

Like Hot’ųga, You rush forward

And endanger Your beloved one!”

 

                           LII                

 

“Please, Great Spirit,” pleaded First-born,

“Please return her, my Haxįho,

For My Heart, here, breaks without her!”

Then did smile the Great White Sturgeon,

“Oh no, First-Born, I will keep her.

She is mine. I won her fairly.

If she pleases I will bed her,

And if not, then I shall eat her!”

 

                           LIII              

 

Now enraged did Wakjakaga,

In His wrath, He raised His war club.

With great speed brought, He, the blow down,

He smote Nahųskaga’s forehead!

Reeling back, then, Nahųskaga,

With great wails, now, turns and stumbles.

Twitching now beside the River,

Great White Sturgeon breathes his last breath.

 

                           LIV              

 

Now the Ho, the Fish, call to Him,

“Wakjakaga, drowned is Your love!

For without our Chief’s protection,

Choked by water, she is undone!”

Anger wells in Wakjakaga,

Then the First-Born swore in this way,

“Now I war with all Wakčéxi!

I’ll push down their water pathways!”

 

                           LV                

 

In the North, Wakčéxi pathways

Deep in Earth does Kúnu push them.

South and West, He does there likewise,

At the last he seeks the East Wind.

There at Sunrise, stands the First-Born,

Red with rage, flushed, filled with anger.

Lifting high his war club, He cries,

“By My oath, this war I now end!”

 

                           LVI              

 

And with grim determination

Kúnu pushed down the last pathways

Of Wakčéxi deep below Him,

Deep below the homes of all Men.

And as war cries thundered from Him,

First-Born stooped and grabbed the Whirlpools,

And He shook them and He flung them;

Nevermore, now, shall they drown Men.

 

                           LVII           

 

Now with Anger He was finished.

Now with Vengeance He was done!

Now his Rage was much diminished,

But His Grieving just begun.

“Oh, Haxįho,” cries the First-Born,

“With My Pride and Lies I lost you.

Life's delight, I loved you always,

You, who were My only sunlight!”

 

                           LVIII         

 

Then with quiet voice, Mą’ųna,

Calls, He, down to calm His First Son,

“Listen to me, Wakjakaga,

Now all Men will praise and love You,

For at last You’ve done my bidding.

Weakest Man, You have protected,

Banished Evil Waterspirits;

Now Your work on Earth is finished!”

 

                           LIX              

 

Thus, Great Spirit, the Earthmaker

Called, He, home sad Wakjakaga.

And while saddened, perhaps wiser,

Wakjakaga sits in Heaven.

Through His tears He seeks the reason.

Through His tears He wonders why,

Why he lost His love Haxįho,

Why through lies He let her die.

 

                      ***          ***

 

                           LX                

 

Children have you listened to me,

Heard the tale of Wakjakaga?

Have you seen how Wakjakaga,

Came, He, to His doom through lying?

Have you seen how Kúnu, Trickster,

He, the First-Born of Mą’ųna,

Knew grief by Haxįho dying,

How forever He is crying?

 

                           LXI              

 

Be this story long remembered,

In the lodge tales of our people!

Be these cautions well regarded,

That we not befall the same fate.

You have heard, now, just how His fate,

By His own hand, it was crafted!

Self-deceit alone destroyed Him,

Sealed His doom and killed His love mate.

 

                           LXII            

 

All to sleep, now, gentle children,

For the lodge fire now is dying.

Hear the tom-tom gently beating,

Hear your heartbeat’s deep repeating.

Rest and fear no Waterspirits

For the First-Born, He has killed them!

Pushed their pathways deep below us,

So that nothing now can harm us.

 

                           LXIII         

 

Praises be to the Great Spirit,

And his First-Born, Wakjakaga!

He beat back the Waterspirits,

So their Evils won’t defeat us!

And while sad, fierce Wakjakaga,

Sits in Heaven, at the Right Hand

Of Mą’ųna, the Earthmaker

Wakjakaga, You have freed us!

 

 

 

 

©2009, Richard Puetter

All rights reserved

 

 

 

Notes:

 

The present poem is about the Hočąk (pronounced Ho-chuck), or Winnebago, Indian character Wakjakaga, the Trickster, the first born son of Earthmaker, the Great Spirit or Má una. The Trickster character runs deep throughout American Indian culture, be it southern, northern, eastern, or western Indians. The Trickster character is a schemer and usually a bit deceitful. So he is the perfect foil for the theme of the poem, i.e., the tragic ends that arise from self-deceit. While it could be argued that pride was a major factor in Wakjakaga’s self-destructive path in the poem, the damage caused by his pride alone would have been limited without his ability to lie to himself about the certainty of winning the river race. It could also be argued that without his self-deceit, he wouldn’t have had such an inflated opinion of himself, which would also tame his pride. In any event, my purpose is to use this story as a parable for Man’s endeavors and a caution against intellectual dishonesty.

 

This poem loosely weaves together (with some of my own fictional contributions) several of the different stories about Wakjakaga. If the reader has any interest in pursuing a study of the stories of Wakjakaga (or any of the many Winnebago legends) there is an absolutely wonderful website that will tell you a lot about Hočąk language and stories. This website can be found at:

 

http://www.hotcakencyclopedia.com/.

 

Otherwise I think the poem is self-explanatory. In the narrative style of the poem all of the Hočąk names are repeated in English somewhere in the poem with the single exception of “Hot’ųga” which is a “kamakazee”, meaning literally “He who throws away his life”.

 

I want to give a special thanks to Dr. Dieterle, the person who maintains the hotcakencyclopedia website, for a critical reading of my poem and pointing out a number of corrections to my use of the Hočąk language and some cultural problems with earlier versions of this piece. I have corrected most of these issues, but for poetic reasons I have not changed the words Haxįho, Čašįk, and Wakirihókere, which should be more properly Haxįhoga, Čašįka, and Wakirihókerega, repectively. As explained to me by Dr. Dieterle, the "-ka/-ga" suffix indicates a personal name. So leaving these suffixes off is like leaving off Mr. or Mrs., which is done in our American culture sometimes just as it is occasionally, I am told, in the Hočąk culture.

 

Good reading, and I hope you enjoy the poem.

 

                            ― Rick 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Paladin4life]

Wow this poem was huge. I liked that you broke into sections for the reader. The story is very interesting and points out a good life lesson about the danger of pride. The main character ends up losing everthing due to his pride. How sad the things we do sometimes to enhance our image. It seems we are often too willing to sacrifice that which is priceless for fleeting glory only to discover that it is useless. Then we have neither our priceless treasure or the glory. How many families are torn apart because of the ambitions of one or both members of the marriage seek worldy goods and stature. Alas our nation can learn a great deal from this poem. I am sorry but I do not reallyhave any suggestions for this poem. I enjoyed reading it and appreciate the creativity that went into crafting it. Thank you for including the background information of the mythology as well! God bless!

[Ben]

This is very good! lol, that's it! It's great!!!

[Ramza]

I could really see children of a small village gathering together in a small circle around a fire listening to this story, all the right descriptions are present as well as an interesting story. I find that there are a lot of morals to this story that you employed, such as the evils of pride, the value of love, and the pains of sacrifice. It is an Epic in my opinion, and as such you were able to weave something interesting not something long, stale, and sleep inducing. Last but not least the topic itself is completely unique, far from anything anyone else has done. Stupendous job.

[Fabian G. Franklin]

EPIC is the word that comes to mind but the language (other than the native phrases) sounds as if it were being told during Victorian times; not prosaic nor with any continual rhyme scheme that I could decipher; although it lends itself to iambic meter for the most part. It reads more like a fable than a poem. It was kind of hard to stick with the characters to the end but it had a sense of cultural enlightenment that provided entertainment from the story. A very interesting piece to be sure. Debileah sent this to me, I think her native American heritage gave her a great fondness of the piece. Well done.

[papaed]

Getting lots of response. This is a wonderful epic parable indeed. The rhythm was smooth and easy. The use of Hocak names gave the rhythm the constant feeling that it was written in another language and would have rhymed in that language.
False pride, self-deceit, and misplaced priorities are a great theme. This was truly a daunting project, shows impressive research and grasp of what I would have thought of as obscurity. You've carried it off professionally and I thank you for sharing it with us all.
Peace,
papaed

[R J Askew]

I confess I cld not read this. I liked the notion of the tom-toms in the first few verses and was willing to surrender to the sense of rhythm...and I appreciated the discipline of the scheme of eight line verses of eight sylllables. But I confess I just didn't get into it. I am not familiar with the folklore of native Americans and I found the names just flew in and out of my eyes.

However, the problem is probably not with the poem but with me, the reader. I was reading in a busy newsroom so the setting and mood were all wrong. But the way my life is I am not receptive to the old song lines...I often wish I were but the head always gets in the way and I duck back into my narrower range.

For what it's worth I kept thinking about the solitary super-galaxy of your other piece as I tried to read this poem. My mind was definitely bossed by your other piece as I tried to get into this one. I kept thinking of the potential in the galaxy's terrible loneliness. To be, or not to be.

[fauxcajun]

Okay, I shan't belabor the point that the poem was so long that I really had trouble staying focused / Your words were delightful, however, and I persevered I'm happy to say / The Indian names were also a great deterrent to me, but I can understand why they had to be there, it is a poem taken from tales told, I just found that trying too come close to pronouncing the different words broke the flow of the poem / Again, this is just my opinion, I can see that I am a lone voice concerning the names / The wonderful moral, or message of this work is as old as time, but never goes out of style, i.e., the plight of becoming too eaten up with self-importance that nothing else matters / This saga explained that age-old truism that self-centeredness is a lonely and tragic road to take in life's journey / I love poems with a moral, because I firmly believe that without morals people will wither and die upon the vine, and that goes for great nations who, over the expanse of time fall into that trap also and are conquered, sometimes from within / A stunning piece of writing, sir!

[Legion]

This was a splending telling (or retelling as the case may be). An epic tale indeed. Some of the stanzas could have been combined since they dealt pretty much with the same topic as the previous here and there, but over all this was very well done. I felt as if I should break out some peyote and enter the sweat tent. Kudos to you.

[Helena]

Oh this was so beautiful Rick. I feel I have just had the most awesome journey
imaginable. The imagery was superb throughout. I loved the stanza of the meeting
of his love, very beautifully penned indeed. The many emotions raging
throughout stood like beacons.....the headstrong hero who risks the life of his beloved....
The battle raged and tossed about in that river race.....the ending, so much
like life....this left me speechless.

Each character in the story was described vividly and I felt I knew them
somehow.

As I was reading through my imagination ran along the lines of what a wonderful
"Cartoon Movie" this would make! Absolutely superb Rick, I am in awe of the talent shown here.
This was one mighty write, a masterpiece for sure.

Thanks for the enjoyment of this "keeper".....Bravo my friend!!

Helena

[Tomás Ó C..]

I... AM.... IN.... AWE... Fantastic... OMG.. brilliant... when you have any more like this DO SEND them to my by message... now a proposal for you - a freind of mine from Facebook Roibeard Mc Elroy and muself are in the finishing stages of putting together a book of oems on Native Americans in general and Leonard Peltier in particular - would you like your work featured?

[..R.I.P..]

This piece was sooooo long. It's really good, I love the life lesson it points out. Pride is dangerous, and one must be careful. You're very talented, and I love your work. Great write.

Thanks for sharing.
~PJ