Poem “Indians”

Dedicated to My ancestor/G-Grandmother: Hurit of the Seneca, Iroquois- Upstate, NY.

Turquoise, Iroquois,
The beating of the drums.
Dried up corn,
Braided hair,
Feathers aplenty,
Eyes ‘a fair.
Macrame, beads, bandanas,
The Yearly dance,
Spiritual readings,
A hideous mask.
Deathly afraid of new traditions,
Will we get free with Indian intuitions?
AsheDina © 2010
The Mad Jewess