Many years ago, my Native people were one with this land. They traveled with buffalo and hunted with wolf, calling them brothers. My Native people were many.

Then my White people came to this land. They killed my Native people, out of ignorance and fear. They pushed my Native people back. To out-of-the way places they called Reservations, my White people drove my Native people. One by one, my Native people fell, dying and dead on the trail, covered with the tears of my people.

My White people shunned my Native people. Ashamed, some of my Native people called themselves by other names, praying only to survive.

My White people took the women of my Native people as their own. They bore the children of my White people, and called them their own. Raised by my White people, the children grew strong; their number grew, while my Native people numbered fewer and fewer, as the buffalo.

My White-Native people were accepted, slowly, and their numbers grew, until my people could not tell the difference between themselves.

I was born. I grew in knowledge of my White people, in total ignorance of my Native people. I flourished in the history of my White people, denied the wisdom of my Native people. Grown in my White people, yet still a babe of my Native people, I hear their call. I hear the voices of my Native people who have gone before, and I yearn to walk with them.

The elders of my White people are gone; the elders of my Native people are hidden from me. My Native people do not look upon me as one of them; I do not know my elders. The elders of my White people gave me a name; my Native name is hidden from me, as there are no elders to reveal it.

I am hungry; I am alone. I search for knowledge, to be filled. I learn the ways of my Native people slowly, on my own, with no elders to guide me. I walk a path I forge alone, led by the drumbeats of my people.

As long as the wind blows, the grass grows, there is breath in my body and the wolf howls in the night, I will search for my people.

I call myself SheWhoWalksAlone.

I am White Native; I am Native White.

By Che (


Haiku: Pokeberries

Wrong Way Willie

A Mug of Hot Coffee ( 6 Authors )

He Was Hungry

The Unwrinkled Heart ( 6 Authors )

Lara's Den has free E-cards.
I make them and offer them to our visitors and authors.
Click the button to access the index.

New at Lara's Den. Click the Thumbnail.

And.......for many others, click the index image.

Graphics by Marilyn

free counters