January 19, 2004
I
Mount Rushmore (for Leanord Peltier) Inscribed in granite, these dictators who conquered this continent, who immortalized them here in boldfaced hypocrisy about humanity, equality, and liberty? Still they glitter like gold, these virtuous words, like nuggets of truth from the Little Big Horn, swirling around in a pan with other words being sorted out. Being sorted out like dirt from mineral, like tailings from ore, like people from the land, like meaning from a word, like truth from bullshit. Described in those faces, in the upturned stone smiles, in the bloodless stone stares, is not a virtuous countenance, but an ironic caricature of each upturned, sodden face the tourists turn toward the gods of their republic. Described in brochures, a memorial park for "animals and plants representative of the Black Hills of South Dakota" to "memorializes the birth, growth, preservation and development of the United States of America." Rounding up the Buffalo for Theodore's dinner, here in the Shrine of Democracy, they sing "My country 'tis of thee and let freedom ring from every mountain." A million tongues devoured, and millions more made mute by the carnage lining the great Pacific railroad: its track a long scar, like stitch-lines outlining the lacerations, the deep cuts carved into the flesh of America, leading straight to these stone heads, echoing the songs of patriots. An already sacred place formed into a sacred shrine, as if we carved Hitler's face into Mt. Sinai. At sunset as lights illuminate the faithful, imagine them singing "America, America, above all others" and whistling "Gary Owen." II Devil's Tower (for James Craven) Scratched into sacred cedar, the long scars from the bear's claws, now pigeon holed by pinions, and rotting cords left by climbers. Yes, they have found the sacred, here in the hills. Rising a symbol formed from the landscape to commemorate a passing, a resting place between a journey from here to there, from this earth into the sky, their paths scale upward. Each climber seeing the same panorama, the same topography spilling out of the horizon as each climbs higher. Which see the resting place of immigrant ancestors, which the fleeing relation, or lone survivor, last refugee? How many the exploring pioneer going West, as they ascend the myth turned into a symbol of their republic's epic struggle. Each year for 30 days they come, those who see their fleeing relations, see the boy turned bear chasing his sisters into the tree turned into a mountain; those first climbers still flee, are even now changing into stars before their brother's startled eyes, changing as the story teller weaves her web of time. Round the tree the bear dancer moves, its stone bark echoes the wooden drums' call to life: the campers at the KOA toss in their sleep as the transformation begins, as the boy turns into bear, as girls turn into stars. This lost tribe of Israel, then turns to its technology: the myth of the future descends upon the Tower. Salvation from the stars; from the seven-sisters comes some song of universal peace; from minds tormented by some infernal voice, a symbol of hope takes shape, in the midst of the toxic landscape of their culture, a better place, a place without time arises. The motif, always the same deus ex machina dispensing cosmic irony, but never magic, never transformation, never boys turning into bears, and girls turning into stars. Into stars may we fall, into stars may we ascend, through this transformation may we weave a new story, a story about how a myth of domination failed, how a myth of transformation survived, about how the spirit of big bear speaks. · · · · · ·
Poetry on Swans Gerard Donnelly Smith, a poet and musician, teaches creative writing, literature and composition at Clark College in Vancouver WA. CERRO de la ESTRELLA (Logan Elm Press, 1992) was chosen for The Governor's Award for the Arts in Ohio, 1992. Excerpts from THE AMERICAN CORPSE (10 poems) were published in Apex of the M in 1995. He is the current director of the Columbia Writers Series, an Honorary Board Member of The Mountain Writers Series, and co-advisor of the Native American Student Council at Clark College. He has also organized readings for Poets Against the War. Do you wish to share your opinion? We invite your comments. E-mail the Editor. Please include your full name, address and phone number. If we publish your opinion we will only include your name, city, state, and country. Please, feel free to insert a link to this work on your Web site or to disseminate its URL on your favorite lists, quoting the first paragraph or providing a summary. However, please DO NOT steal, scavenge or repost this work on the Web without the expressed written authorization of Swans. This material is copyrighted, © Gerard Donnelly Smith 2004. All rights reserved. |
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