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
Not Starve.

Chief of the Kiowas

12 February, 2013