The Sky Clan

From the collection
Onion Prairie Woman: The Search

by Nadine Waltman Harmon

Our grandmothers sit in silence
around ghostly campfires
huddled deep, within
blankets of Army blue.

“Child, turn away
from smoke that hovers
over these ghost fires.”

In the grandfathers’ circle
the elders sit unbroken with
backs bent against rains
threatening to smother fire.

“Turn away, child,
look not in our faces it makes
your time come too soon.”

The grandmothers’ eyes reflect
firelight, revealing wisdom
of ancient times, times
too long gone…too soon dust.

“Child, sing our stories often.
Let people hear the music of
tallgrass prairies, of blackjack oaks
and unity when you sing our names.

“Remember our deeds.
Pawhuska, Bacon Rind, Grey Eagle.
We roamed west of the Mississippi
and south into the Territory.

“Some were tolerant,
some dared to challenge
while others signed treaties.
Sing our praises, but
remember, the Clan is listening.”

Journal, Volume 2 Issue 10