The Buffalo Vision I went out to find my vision. I leaned against a tree & it became an ancestor. Carefully, I opened its mouth. A white buffalo rushed out. His large snow fur enhanced the purity of his eyes. You are my vision, I said, the vision of my people. You are the birth of the earth and the return of respect for a blood line that once stumbled a long trail & fell into the hidden caverns & dark wood, inside the high branches & the hard stone. He listened to me & grew larger. He encompassed the mountains & blew into the softness of a cloud bull. I returned to my people & pointed to the sky. I chanted my story as the cloud slipped into the solid sun of blue. My grandfather heard the song & hurried into the steady hum of my presence. He danced in a smoke of sage & threw small colors into the wind. It was the glass beads of our captors. Bright & breakable they fell. He was returning them for the young braves that once found them a great bargain. He was dancing for the return of our buffalo skins, stolen openly, by the trusted trappers, and by our own longing, for the magic of colors. ~ Phibby Venable Illustration by Daisy Timonan for volume four of The Diary of Pink Pearl Continues: Im Wide Awake and Born Again! oqedesigns/trilogy.htm
Posted on: Tue, 23 Dec 2014 22:38:53 +0000