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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3951 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention One Way Out Marie Eyre (Pages From Sunflower’s Diary) The Old Ones say that evil spirits keep their blackest miles on this reservation. Jesuit priests find their way, but not me. I stopped going to church. Mom died today; my uncles argue over who should take me. Dad came to the funeral. I almost didn’t know him. He stroked my head and cried. Then, he was gone. I hate my hair always braided. I hate my dark brown eyes. I want blue ones like Angie Dickinson. I saw this guy sweating in the heat, unloading supplies from the train. I bet he would notice me if I had blue eyes. I like the train. Booze, food, and medicine -- we take what we can get out here. I love the movie star magazines. I want to leave this village forever, but I stay to keep my spirit company. Foolish spirit doesn’t understand the difference between real and dreams. "Stay here where you were born. Stay with your people,” it sings to me. I don’t sing back. I went to white man's school and I know what’s beyond this mountain -- not drunken medicine men dancing naked at midnight, dropping their rattles into the bushes, peeing on them and laughing. No dirty hard bucks feeling themselves in front of me and taunting me to come closer. I show my best friend my diary. She wrinkles her nose and says, "what’s this? It's stupid. You're supposed to write about real things.” She likes the part about dirty hard bucks and makes jokes. I laugh because she's my only friend. I won't show her my diary, anymore. I don't write about things that happen. There’s nothing good in this place. Don't want to make it all real again, not when my words are sleds on ice. They ride me away. And away is better. Away is clouds, sky, sweet smells -- the white guy shining in the sun. |
