Cloudfeather
Cloudfeather stands high atop a treacherous mountain
Calling spirits from the netherworld
Dust and sand flies in swirls like a fountain.
Feathers and a headdress completely caress him
He sincerely prays for rain to rid the drought
Shaking dust of from the canyon’s rim.
Tribal drums ignite the speed of sound
The man, brave and true, reaches the sky
Seeing the future past he has personally found.
Slipping into a thunderous inducing trance
He sees things we could not understand
He wants justice, peace, co-existence and balance.
Turning circles with the ever-blue sky
The man chants and the drums grow loud
Tears well up as he sees his people die.
Stealing his land and giving beads in return
Killing his women and children
Watching solemnly as his domicile burns.
Winds gust, could it be a change of tide?
Will he see his people happy again?
He knows patience, his time he abides.
His blood runs red and pure like any man’s
He’s human and he counts for something
He sits still in a trance for hours watching the sand.
Smoke fills his lungs from the brisk, hot fire
Hope becomes eternal and he understands
That possibly his people will not die in funeral pyre’s.
The man envisions himself on that mountain
His arms stretched as far as they will go
Swirling about his dirty feet the constant sand.
He captivates all the clouds and restless winds
His feathers ruffle in the rushing burst
He prays for the lives of his next of kin.
Cloudfeather dances lightly atop the golden ridge
With unbridled, distinct passion
Out of nowhere appears a glorious bridge.
The old man opens his soulful eyes in alarm
He sinks gratefully to his rigid knees
His prayers answered bringing no real harm.
The gentle winds of ultimate fury subside
And the man falls in exhaustion
For now on his people must not run and hide.
As he slips away into oblivion’s dark cave
He smiles and flips his wrinkled hands in the air
In death, his people are saved.
The bridge connected the two worlds and times
And the man traveled his last journey
Making plenty room for more of his own kind.
Disappearing the bridge folded and rolled away
Cloudfeather’s headdress fell from the sky
Depicting the next chief of time today.
Baying Wolf picked up the beautiful headdress
And swore right there before God and man
He would try filling Cloudfeather’s shoes at his best.
© 1996
Why Native American?
For as long as I can remember I’ve always had a special place in my heart for Native American culture & indigenous peoples. This all spans back to when I was a really small child. I was about 4 years old when my paternal grandmother started telling me about an ancestor that was Cherokee. She said I was 1/4 Cherokee because of this particular person. She really did not give many details other than that. Perhaps she did not know any or perhaps I just did not listen that far as I was an active child with ADHD.
I really have no idea if what she said was true or not. I do know that many people in the United States have some Cherokee in them, so anything is possible. Read more in my personal biography.
