He sat in the shade, back against the adobe and log wall, <br />watching the kids chase after whirlwinds. <br />Once in awhile they would catch one, <br />then try and stay in the middle as long as they could. <br />Had his hat brim drawn down across his eyes, <br />so the bright desert sunlight didn't make him blink. <br />The old rez dog laid at his feet, oblivious to the world, <br />chasing a squirrel by the looks of his legs twitching. <br />He dreamed of his youth, so many years ago, <br />when he had strength and good looks for the girls to see, <br />He would dance at the pow wows, bustle a'flyin, <br />stamping his feet to the beat of the drum. <br />At the top of his voice he would give his war cry, <br />though no enemies usually came to a dance. <br />That was alright though, he really didn't mind, <br />but he was ready for war if it came to that. <br />All of his friends were gone now, <br />taken by the spirits, as we all must be. <br />The life that remained in his fragile old body, <br />has seen better days, better times and better health. <br />Now it's a struggle to get out of bed some days, <br />harder still to come outside and sit in the fresh air. <br />He didn't fear what was happening to him, <br />it was just another part of this life. <br />Like this old hogan, that he built by himself, <br />how long now,50,60 years ago. <br />It served him well, raised four kids here, <br />now he watches his childrens children play in the red dust. <br />He wonders if they will sit here one day, <br />to dwell on their past as he does now. <br />But that's not important, the culture is, <br />then he sets up a little straighter and calls to the kids. <br />Come and gather at my feet, and I will tell you a story, <br />of warriors and raids I went on at your age. <br />Of pow wows and dances, of giving thanks to Spirit, <br />listen well so you can tell your own story someday.<br /><br />Chuck West<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/timeless-memories/
