dis-ambient, distant and deteriorating
fiction
edward w pritchard
Not once a chief or great warrior I walked sun-blind to the new Homeland, to distant Oklahoma broken of heart and spirit across the treacherous trail of Tears. Unaffiliated, distant and deteriorating I dared dream of uniting the vanished tribe anew in hostile terrain.
Vanished is my campfire, foreign is my tee-pee. Friend and Foe disappeared, memories forgotten and unfamiliar.
Where thunder the great herds of buffalo who owned the territory; where gone my companions who once shared the flickering fire?
Where gone my youth that once drove me to run East to West? Dis-spirited and dis-ambient I drop the seedlings from the sacred pouch onto the parched barren ground and begin to chant, chant, chant the tribal corn dance.
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