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Here I sit,
greying hair, hazel eyes,
high-cheekbones, olive skin.

A loco white-man
with Indian-red blood.

English, Scottish, Dutch, German,
And Paw-paw once told me,
"You're Cherokee,
don't ever forget it."

I go to the pow-wow
in search of my history.
Alex Haley found his roots,
but I'm just a "wannabe"
with fair skin.

Wannabe? Wannabe, what?

Look at me!
I'm the result of my
european ancestors dominance.
While my native forefathers
were being murdered,
my native foremothers
were being raped and
my european ancestors
were annihilating
sacred Mother Earth.

Who am I now...
I cry for Mother Earth,
I pray to Father Sky,
I listen to the wind,
and I follow the Tao...

A paradox
in a mortal shell of flesh.

I am the Cherokee man
with a Caucasian face,
Scottish eyes,
long, greying hair in a braid...

and English is my tongue.





[This message has been edited by Panther (edited October 12, 2000).]

Panther,

That was beautiful.

------------------
Van Canna

Panther, warrior and medicine man!

My DNA echoes of scholars, nuns, scientists and doctors on one side and quakers, craftsmen and businessmen on the other.

But somewhere in the very middle, my spirit runs like a river through the forest and fields. My brothers and sisters look at me from inside their coats of fur, and my chest swells with the steady beating of a drum that speaks of things I don't have the words for.

This little fire is my strength and sorrow.

------------------
sean

Why do I keep my hair long?

Perhaps it is time
to shear these locks...

Yet, I want my family to have it.

When my Daddy died,
I followed ancient Cherokee custom
and obtained a lock of his hair
for each member of my family.

Unbeknownst to them,
they helped keep alive
our Cherokee roots.

I searched our roots and history
finding
that many of Daddy's "interesting" tales
had foundation in complete fact!

What was our history, our ancestry, our roots?
Truth bore out the stories
I'd heard as a child.
The stories I neglected.
The stories I thought were merely tales
told by Daddy to amuse us as children.

The fact was, that he was maintaining tradition
and passing on our heritage in a verbal form.

The trials, tribulations and struggles of
our Scottish roots
mixed and mingled with
those of our Cherokee roots.

His stories told of
brave medieval knights
and brave...
braves!

Forgetting the other side of my bloodlines,
Daddy passed on only what he knew about...
The other side was... "civilized"
and thus had a rich written history...
It was a great scandal in my hometown,
that my Momma had dated and married one of "those" boys...

So... I took locks of his hair in the Cherokee custom.
And grieved for a year...
actually more...
actually it never stops...
but I couldn't
scatter his hair to the wind...

It remains
carefully placed
in a leather pouch
in my bedside table,

where I can still touch it
when I have questions
that only he can answer...

remains...

a reminder of
the best man I ever knew.

Panther ...

Thank you so much for your heart songs. I cried when I read it. It is a poem of pain and sorrow, but ultimately a poem of healing for self and other men.

Sean, you expressed the feelings that many of us carry living on this beautiful continent. The beat of drum is Mother Earth's heart beat. I, too, have struggled to learn Grandmother's ways as I follow the Tao ... sometimes feeling very alone in my journey.

Van ... you've always expressed your intellect as well as emotion, and I have treasured the reflection you have given me.

May your feet always tread gently on our Mother ... may you Walk in Beauty always ..



------------------
In Beauty,

Jackie