Tuesday, February 12, 2013
"13 January, 1874"
I have heard
that you intend to settle us on the reservation near the
Mountains. I don't want to settle. I Love to roam over the Prairies.
There I feel Free and Happy, but when we settle down we grow
pale and die. I have laid aside my lance, bow, and shield, and yet
I feel safe in your presence. I have told you the Truth. I have no
little lies hid about me, but I don't know how it is with the commissioners.
Are they as Clear as I am? A long time ago this Land Belonged to our
Fathers; but when I go up to the River I see camps of soldiers on its banks.
These soldiers Cut down my Timber;
they Kill my Buffalo;
and when I See that, my Heart feels like Bursting;
I feel Sorry...
Has the white man Become a child
that he should Recklessly kill and not eat?
When the red men slay game,
They do so that they may Live
Chief of the Kiowas
12 February, 2013