Rendezvous

Sunday, 24th May ...Went up to the Q.(ueen's) O.(wn) R.(ifles) camp and saw all my old Varsity and Toronto friends, who bombarded me with questions concerning the victory at Batoche.

Reunion so far from home,
knowing much as I missed
the action, there were those
even further removed. Unexpected pocketful
of coins, to have
seen the battlefield, walk
on the ground where we manufactured
our success in warfare, a currency
worth possessing. Easy enough
to imagine ourselves back on campus
but for our surroundings: flapping tents,
well-worn uniforms, issue equipment. And some
years from now, students will discuss us
as part of their class on Canadian warfare.
We are a noble chapter in history.

Some supply wagons were waylaid:
food is scarcer and less palatable
than in college days, even.
The atmosphere: convivial. Some men
showing off souvenirs.
***
We are marching south to Battleford
from the foot of Eagle Hills.
Their Chief Soldier
is camped among them. Unknown:
what our victory at Cut Knife Hill means.

Poundmaker as our leader
must let them know we are not afraid to meet.
He would sooner have gone southwest and away, but
his burden is to carry out
the hopes and wishes of our people.

I saw him at dawn, greeting our day,
trouble on his brow. There are worries
that can't be smudged away.
But his words, when they are brought
to the Queen's Chiefs, will be strong.

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.