Vol. 43 No. 2 1976 - page 260

Ray A. Young Bear
A WOMAN'S NAME
the faces who grew up
with me are still here.
i can only ask them
and they'll tell you
i haven't done wrong.
the huts ofmy bleeding
have all gone.
i've wrapped the cooking
chains in newspaper
ready to be given away.
through all of this,
the trees stand for
a purpose . they remind
me of the time i lived
here, walking around
with my heart, my horse,
singing to anything
but afraid to meet
anyone who might catch
me with my mouth wide
open, the sun inside,
warming the bandaged
body of my child,
lost for good.