Moccasin Maker Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Moccasin maker

She was a fiancé
Waiting for marriage.

Her heart full of dreams
To manage her tepee.

Inside and in centre
Would place the fire.

Right near entrance
A design of a game.

She pictured the head of
The last bull he brought.

He, greatest hunter
Generous, devoted…

In her heart the heaven,
Of the lord, creator…

There, gather spirits
Of friends, ancestors.

Suddenly is "Fool's day, "
And blood everywhere.

On his hands and his legs
Metal balls and the chains.

Is waiting to be hung
By the noose and gallows.

What he wants is simple
Moccasin, for his way.

To reach where the Kitchi
Rules now and forever…

She makes him moccasins
Not many know of this…