September 14, 2015
Max’s Musings
By Max Molleston
The lore of young native Americans is with us. Traditions spilling forth on special occasions. Tribal lore and history, particularly drumming, dancing and chant-singing, build stories to appreciate and attempt to understand. Native Americans have populated this continent from earliest discovered evidence. Languages of the native tribes deserve careful and sympathetic listening, to bring that music to the ear. The poems this month are from youthful native Americans, of the Lakota traditions. They are part of the Red Cloud Indian School at Pine Ridge, South Dakota. The youngsters’ poetry was formed through school classes at Pine Ridge, then published in small booklet with the title “Whispers of the Lakota.” I recall the young poets’ sensitive, strong and meaningful poems in their poetry submissions for the Mississippi Valley Poetry Contest I worked with for years. No last names in these poems from the young Lakota’s.
The Hero In Me
She smiles, she laughs, she hurts,
she cries,
She holds it all deep inside
She lives, she flies, she soars
She dies.
She is the one I idolize
She loves, she gives, she cares
She is
The one I know I will someday be
A hero, a mother, a child, a soul,
the woman inside of me.
Isabelle – 10th grade
Her pathway ahead, she declares. “I will someday Be.” How many of us reached out for our life plans?
A very short poem from 10th grader Dillon:
My dreams are endless
My passion is relentless
A better life is not hopeless.
A Red Cloud graduate of 2006, not named, composed:
“Where Life Never Ends”
Never ending dream where life never ends—
where people live in perfect harmony
where color is not wrong
where we can walk and sing without laughter of put downs
where someone greets you with words of joy
where loneliness and inequality become a speck
of dirt in the winds of the past—
But reality must come first.
A very thoughtful poem, but the wishes push hard against this graduate’s barriers, he or she foresees, as a native American. What is important in these poems and a great many others composed by youthful writers is a search for their futures. Youngsters who search and find a pathway, then persevere, have a chance for a fruitful life. Perhaps an early job experience turns toward a profession. Outcomes for native American youths do not shine a light beam on which they may ride to a bright life. We have glanced at lives we are not likely to experience. Have we been lucky with marketable skills as our pathway into the working world? Come back in October and see what harvest time brings for you.
Filed Under: Humor, Personal Growth
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