Nobody`s Story-Nobody? Um, shouldn't you be with your own tribe or somethin'?
-My blood is mixed.
My mother was Ohm gahpi phi gun ni.
My father is Abso luka.
This mixture was not respected.
As a small boy,
I was often left to myself.
So I spent many months stalking the elk people...
to prove I would soon become a good hunter.
One day, finally, my elk relatives took pity on me,
and a young elk gave his life to me.
With only my knife, I took his life.
As I was preparing to cut the meat, white men came upon me.
They were English soldiers.
I cut one with my knife, but they hit me on the head with a rifle.
All went black.
My spirit seemed to leave me.
I was then taken east...
in a cage.
I was taken to Toronto, then Philadelphia...
and then to New York.
And each time I arrived in another city,
somehow the white men had moved...
all their people there ahead of me.
Each new city contained the same white people as the last,
and I could not understand how a whole city of people...
could be moved so quickly.
Eventually, I was taken on a ship...
across the great sea...
over to England,
and I was paraded before them...
like a captured animal,
an exhibit.
And so I mimicked them, imitating their ways,
hoping that they might lose interest in this young savage,
but their interest only grew.
So they placed me into the white man's schools.
It was there that I discovered...
in a book...
the words that you, William Blake, had written.
They were powerful words, and they spoke to me.
But I made careful plans, and I eventually escaped.
Once again, I crossed the great ocean.
I saw many sad things....
as I made my way back to the lands of my people.
Once they realized who I was,
the stories of my adventures angered them.
They called me a liar.
" Exaybachay." He Who Talks Loud, Saying Nothing.
They ridiculed me. My own people.
And I was left to wander the earth alone.
I am Nobody.
***
I went to the Garden of Love.
And saw what I never had seen:
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.
And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
And Thou shalt not, writ over the door;
So I turn'd to the Garden of Love,
That so many sweet flowers bore,
And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tomb-stones where flowers should be:
And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars, my joys & desires.
This post has been edited by ZAC on 20 Sep 2007, 16:08
მიმაგრებული სურათი
· 
თავისუფალი თემა Vol. 14, say cheese
