Poem

This poem was published in the book “A Broken Flute”, edited by D. Seale and B. Slapin, in 2005.
My Precious Little Nephew
By Cindy La Marr (Paiute/Pit River)
My precious little nephew
Was born one fall,
With long black hair
and big black eyes.
My precious little nephew
Knew more than his years,
Before he could walk
He wanted to dance.
When he hears the drum
He cannot play
For fear he will miss a beat,
my precious little nephew.
My precious little nephew
Is to be a traditional dancer,
Practicing for hours
In his room by himself
My precious little nephew
Wakes up to his precious belongings over his bed…
His beadwork, his moccasins,
his regalia.
My precious little nephew
Learned early to be
Respectful to others,
For that is the Indian way.
My precious little nephew
Entered school this fall
at the age of four,
so eager to learn and share with others.
Today, my precious little nephew
Came home from school….
He was told to memorize a song with “war whoops”.
He was told to bring a hanger to school for a bow.
He was told to bring a nylon to wear over his face, so he can be an “Indian”.
Today, I saw a change in
My precious little nephew…
Confusion, shame, and self-doubt
Were some of the questions on his face.
All he knew about life
So far
Is that he is
Proud to be Indian.
My precious little nephew
Who just turned five…
What honor has been taken from you?
What harm will come to you
As a young Indian student
in the years to come?
My precious little nephew.