Washita Battlefield National Historic Site
for Chief Black Kettle & the Cheyenne People
I. 2016 that journey i was tired not ready for a long drive i live here now my land here now & the cheyenne my new duty as i travel i am afraid carved country in this part of oklahoma my dark skin my kinky hair the worries the ugly tales of travel i am afraid all this to write some short history for peace at the battlefield it’s near evening no one here to guide through the bones i must go alone on one branch a flash cloth bundled a head with no features a jump in grass no further i should take off my shoes where they died i walk down the trail the sounds the horses butterflies hop they intone find that place where you walk this is where we wait woman | II. 1864–68 for years the old ones waiting an old story an old people caution a whisper hope & survive don’t be afraid just wait the world has lasted this long a legacy we rely upon lists of treaties medicine lodge black kettle a kind man suffered power for peace i grieve this man i grieve his wife no words to justify definition in suffering i place my prayers in spirit in a gift a bullet lost in blood pray before it talks to you what a man offered left behind children women beaten by memory the dawn custer’s music the warriors point to trees soldiers there a battlefield quickly leave the offerings for your tongue | III. 1868 memory i must respect i must respect the beginning the beginning the dawn a mourning a hot sun of migration in this place stillness before claiming river through trees & elders surely know broken vowels sand creek counseling quiet faith in life through waiting then a massacre black kettle medicine woman later stop asking me to understand to absolve soldiers no words no words i claim in testimony buried inside a memory it speaks in books it chides the truth calm never lasts i want peace calm never lasts i want peace i can’t forget custer’s music the women sing to children do not forget a massacre remember tend to stories find the words |
Copyright © 2016 by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers. This poem was commissioned by the Academy of American Poets and funded by a National Endowment for the Arts Imagine Your Parks grant.