|Posted: Wed Apr 11, 2007 12:09 am Post subject:|
|MILLER TIMEAs I stare into my sisters yellow eyes, I weep at the possibility of her crossing. Even in her jaundiced state her Native beauty still shines through the shroud of death. Oh how I wish I could die in her place. Oh how I wish it was me who lay in dire pain as my belly swelled to monsterous perportions and yet never complain or say a word. She lay stoic but her eyes tell a different story.
Born into captivity, futility and sorrow has haunted the very essence of her being, her life and her destiny. To hear her speak of her memories as a child in her monotone voice, I can only see a reflection of mine and the life of tears we both shared.
I cry for her chidren, their saddened and confused faces still haunt my memory. I choak back the tears as I muster a look of confidence and hope as they look to me. But inside, I ponder their fate, a fate with no mother. A decendant of Sand Creek and Washita, she only wanted peace, peace of mind. But she is a prisoner like the rest of us skins. And we are destin to die in captivity.