The Lost Journals of Sacajewea by Debra Magpie Earling

Author:Debra Magpie Earling
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Milkweed Editions

Days of surrounded

I smile at the Women at Metaharta. I catch up to them and clean their scrape tools and awls. I help them skin and cook. I sharpen their knives. I learn to speak their language, better than Charbonneau, and they bring me their best duck fat, their heaviest Buffalo tongues.

Charbonneau is happy I work in great fields of Squash and Corn.

He does not know I learn his language, too.

To parles trop, he tells me.

Corn fields surround us. Sweet scent of Corn follows me. Sunflowers bow their giant heads over me. I hear their sighs and small witherings. Gold bees fly from them but do not sting me.

You listen to our Sacred Ones, A’aninin Women tell me.

A’aninin Women are beautiful in all their ways. They are tall and hardy. Some have eyes the color of Sunflower seeds. Others have eyes the color of honeyed Corn.

You should see Mandan Corn, A’aninin Women tell me. Corn stalks so big a small one like you would get lost. They tell me about hidden Corn fields where Mandan Women fly like Crows, where Corn grows as high as bluffs, where giant herds of Deer rest in Corn shade, and Corn Spirits watch over Corn fields. They speak with ease about must-not-be-named. Our gardens in Metaharta and Mandan feed many People. But this garden, bigger than All gardens, is kept hidden. A garden of Sacred Corn Teeth to carry the People into on.

I cannot tell if they tease. Could there be bigger gardens? They share their plenty with me. They show me their ways of basket weaving and gathering. I listen and learn but do not forget I am in Enemy Camp.

I hide in the dark Corn paths away from Otter Woman and Charbonneau. No one knows where I am—no one—but |He is woman|. She finds me even when I am far far away in the watery trough of the furthest Corn row. I hear Her tiny jingling bells first, and then Her clicking beads, and all Her clattering clattering bone bangles. The first time She found me, She frightened me with Her mirrors flashing light through the Corn rows.

Look what I brought, She said, waving a flutter. It’s paper. I can show you words now. I told you I would find you. We sit among the Corn, and letter by letter, word by word, She teaches me English.

But when I ask |He is woman|, Why do you bother with me? Why do you give me your time?

Mice skitter.

Corn stalks shift and close around us, and Debai no longer trickles to me.

Rocks click together. Wind sniffles.

Edges-of-dark writhe in and around Corn stalks but do not harm me.

I come into the presence of |He is now Many|.

|He is now Many| tells me, We have always known your story.

|He is now Many| now comes to me more than |He is woman|.

|He is now Many| changes Sky.

He is flooding Waters

sudden rains

clatters of Lightning.

Everything hums in His presence.

My deepest insides cocoon and quiet.

His questions stop me. Flitter in me.

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