Sheila Williams ~ Singing Cloud
A spectator boasted that this was “America’s greatest” public execution
SAINT PAUL, December 27, 1862
The PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES: I have the honor to inform you that the thirty-eight Indians and half-breeds ordered by you for execution were hung yesterday at Mankato at 10am. Everything went off quietly and the other prisoners are well secured.
Respectfully, H. H. SIBLEY, Brigadier-General
ARE YOU READY FOR TRUTH?
No relief to shake my fist in helpless anger, though inside my spirit is raging, but my heart will not allow surrender, my shoulders droop beneath the weight of a world so filled with injustice, and no one is caring.
Father Sky above bears witness; Mother Earth below is crying, the Four Winds gather for the changes, Creator warned you but you did not listen, killing is your only understanding, death the friend in your pocket.
Do you truly think you will be respected, accepted, as confidant to the Angels, have you so little honor, are you so ego driven, to believe you alone will be exempted, and in your own tiny space continue?
No troubles be allowed to touch you, the path you walk golden, while children are dying all around you, yet you never acknowledge that you owe a little something, never once admit one thing you do is wrong?
Scream, shout, or whisper, not one hint gets to you, all around the world is changing, this is the year of death, a time of great mourning, for all that is past is fading, preparing for the coming dawning.
And you, stumble on clinging to the lies that were taught you, mind locked tight against true learning, refusing to see pain, hurt, or sorrow, denying what is right before you, ah, sweet blindness.
Almost, there is humor, in your righteous anger at a future you cannot comprehend, to you it is not real, if you cannot grasp it in your own hand, no gold or silver will buy a way that is different, how sad.
When the gates are thrown open and released are a People who need no longer stand in darkness, who reclaim a heritage meant for them, and your pages grow yellow from no reading, what then?
How long, will you keep denying that the People you have down trodden are reviving, reclaiming the knowledge of their heritage and places, you stole our children, and our spirits, but not our keepers.
Why, does it surprise you that our voices now are rising, we fight back against injustice, and our children’s voices are ringing, the only way it is accepted is the music they are bringing, sing out loud young of the Peoples.
Our protestors are beaten, our marchers arrested, it does not matter they are peaceful, and we weep as the feathers are taken, our prayers they try so hard to stifle, and yet our Ceremony they are selling.
Let us heal our differences they keep telling, while our grandparents bones they defile, and once again the murders are kept quiet, no one cares if our children are slaughtered, just a bunch of Indian trouble makers.
Leonard is still locked away, in that iron cage they keep him, innocent of the crimes that they themselves committed, but the smiling man will be forgiven of a genocide so casually undertaken for power?
There is no fairness I am understanding, but justice my friends is crying, where there is no true balance the blindness will be forsaken, deaf ears will be no excuse, when it is at Creators feet you are standing.
And rage away at the very heavens, shake your own fist at the storms now rising, hide away beneath the darkness that covers, you will, stand bare before the whole world, the lies you told yourself no longer matter.
Truth has a way of shining through the deepest night, and the need you feel so strongly for something you cannot touch, will keep growing, until you stand humbly within the golden hour, then your heart will sorrow.
Softly will come the healing, when your heart is open, when your eyes are seeing that it is you who were withholding, there is an answer to the questions, but are you ready for these lessons?
©Copyright June 6, 2008 by Sheila Williams ~ Singing Cloud