Walkabout

Sunday, 24th May ...The village and the Police Barracks are on a level tract of high land between the rivers Battle and North Saskatchewan. This plateau is of considerable area and is a splendid site for a town.

A townsite lofty above the flat prairie.
Medieval castle-builders
could do no better.
And where two rivers cross:
x marks the spot. Grey-weathered
timber encloses the fort,
houses scatter like
jewels or starfish about
this hub, this gentle net
that has drawn them in,
scattered them artfully.

The settlers are guarded,
jumpy, and deserving
of the tranquillity and harmony
this setting must usually mete out.
Cerulean blue sky today: surely
peace is restored beyond doubt.
***
Mon dieu, but my feet are sore.
I am too old to walk this path much more.

We have been walking 12 days
now. I remember as a girl, this was
a way of life. Wandering in our lands,
following the herds. Sometimes settling
a while. Things changed, we began
to settle and farm. Our long narrow lots
to the river, so each homestead
could have access to water,
and the best hunting (even the animals
need that river). Oh, that grasping Dominion:
it tried to chase my grandparents and parents
from Manitoba, claiming the land
again and again from
the East. Trying to put impractical grids over
our systems, from their Ottawa desks where
they must all live close to water.

We tried to negotiate, always. To ask
for a voice. A choice. Our men and leaders
listen to the Elders, to the women,
too. Madame Caron, she sent reinforcements
to battle only weeks ago - flying to Riel,
saying - "I can hear the gunshots, Louis,
those are pointed at my men! Send them help,
now!" Middleton doesn't bring his wife,
does he? These Easterners, they must
dominate. Overwhelm. Berate.

I saw them wrest the bell
from the chapel steeple. I wish them all hell:
cutting out the tongue
from my people.