I will dance on the day you die...

In memory of the day your spirit

soars far above the eagle, far above the clouds,

far from the white man's fences,

I will dance the dance the old men taught me,

because the young men said to teach a white to dance

was to invite Earth mother to the death of Seminoles,

I could not be their brother, they saw

blue eyes and blond hair and pale skin,

but the old men saw your blood, saw

the girl in long black hair weaving baskets,

the girl who wore pale colors,

the girl who danced to morning and to evening,

to sun and stars and sea and sky,

the girl who lived with whites and loved the old ways.

You led me to the circle of the elders,

where I stood alone, listening

as each old one spoke to me in turn

teaching me the stories of the old ones.

Prepared by them, I made the dream walk,

and returned.

Frederick E. Smith 1986