The Race

At Conference I was, in my dream,
And in its light a truth was seen:
Say Hey! Life carried on, no mind –
To those who stand outside, they're blind.

I sought a private prayer with one,
To mark the spot it had begun
Those forty years before that date,
A quiet time before we ate.

But as we wandered towards the church
Through halls, he left me in the lurch –
More pressing issues as the host
Of Conference here – those mattered most.

So I gave up, and wandered back
To banquet laid – sought camera pack;
Stage-whispered one alarm to them,
I said, “Shut up”, found camera, then –

I spied young man from Island Lake
(No others there – bad weather days);
We sat together, quite shut out;
We talked of maps and traveled route.

Then I awoke – strange dream it was;
And then I saw quite clear the cause –
I'd seen those condo pictures (net)
And changes made to pictures get.

I'd left Star-blanket, pink and bright
As spread on top – stain out of sight
On larger blanket (beige) below;
Bright-flowered pillow-case, I know.

But there in picture – pink not there
Beige covered pillow – seen nowhere;
I'd thought as I laid out the bed,
’Twill resonate in native's head.

I guess it won't – it's beige that sells;
Star-blankets, flowers, will not tell
Some searching native –“I've come home”;
Their target-market “beige” and “clone”.

In both my dream and on the net,
I saw connecting theme – forget
(Or do not see) First Nations' world –
Think white and rich, no ethnic swirl.

Though I am white, I'm also Cree;
Of course the outside's all they see,
And all I saw back at the first,
Before my Quest had done its worst.

So what of that do white folks know?
From church or condo – they'd not go
Across such borders to the Cree,
Just like we saw at Wounded Knee.

Third Culture Kids – what e'er their stripe –
Bridge cultures' gaps of different types;
One foot firm-planted on each bank,
Folks walk on us – or not – like plank.

So, say farewell? Turn in report?
To folks suppressing clear retort:
“Who needs the Cree (or tainted such)?
Get on with life – thanks very much”.

Of course, farewells are more for those
Who leave, and watch past portals close,
Than for those up-and-coming types –
Gung-ho to set this world aright.

And that was us, short years ago,
There wasn't much we did not know;
Old timers then – a neck-ish pain
Though lots has changed, much is the same.

Not sure just what you're saying, Lord
Go back once more, then close the door?
Like my farewell on A-T night –
Now “Quest” is done, go set things right?

Maybe, not sure – non-fiction tome?
Which spells it out to those back home –
(Not home for me – where I was raised
Cree, Creenglishmen, are not there praised).

Well, maybe not – a waste of time –
Perhaps next world tells story mine;
Get on with life, share what's for them:
Not sweaty miles – races’ Amen.

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