Day: March 20, 2026

Savages and Beasts

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excerpt

Despite all the atrocities the Indian children have experienced
the system couldn’t change them, couldn’t mould them to
their ways. Why these kids can’t become like the proselytizing
Anglos? What keeps them and sustains them and they remain
Indians? How these savages know how to maintain their beliefs
and way of life despite the efforts of the occupiers and proselytizing
church fathers? The only answer lies in the natural abilities of
these savages to never compromise their beliefs and rights which
is the only way they can maintain their sense of goal and purpose
in life. And so they take the hits and strikes and punishments
while they maintain their composure and their rigidity knowing
well in their hearts that what goes around comes around. Truly
this has kept them alive and strong and optimistic that one day
things might turn to their favor.
Suddenly a thought came to Anton, an epiphany one could
say: he could go and take up studies as his father would like him
to do. Yes that could be his future, a higher diploma and a new
career. A university in the East would serve well in that respect
and Mary could feel good to go with him. Yes, a new beginning.
He couldn’t wait until he asked Mary what her feelings would be
for something like that.
❧
Marcus and Lucas got very angry upon learning about last night’s
incident and the light punishment Mr. Wilson received from
Father Jerome. George was very angry too, so was Anton, but
both Anton and George knew the law had to be abided and vigilante
solutions weren’t the best under the circumstances. So they
only hoped that the RCMP would charge the teacher and the
case would end up in a court of law where he would be sentenced
properly. However these explanations weren’t at all satisfactory
to the two Indian youths who would like to see the guilty man…

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763602

Fury of the Wind

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excerpt

them in soap and water and set the table with them. She had stoked
up the fire in the range to prepare a casserole of scalloped potatoes
and warm up the pork shoulder Mrs. Thompson had cooked during
the week.
Yesterday, with the intention of making a pie, the two women
had gone out to the bushes north of the farm to pick Saskatoon
berries. But when they came to make the pastry they could not find
any lard in the house, so there would be fresh berries with sugar
and thick cream for dessert.
When Ben came in he looked surprised to see no meal laid out
on the kitchen table. But he did not wear his usual scowl when
something upset him. Taking this as a good sign – and in a moment
of coquettishness – Sarah took him by the hand and led him to the
front room. He did not withdraw from this first gesture of intimacy
they had shared. A faint smile crossed his face when he saw what
she had done with the table.
“Long time since we had a tablecloth and nice dishes in this
house,” he said.
She hoped he would change back into the suit he had worn for
the wedding but he sat down at the table in his overalls. Because she
promised herself she would not start off their married life by nagging,
she let it go. But she still wore her white dress. Removing her
apron, she tossed it over a chair and sat down across from him.
He appeared to enjoy the meal but he ate in silence, as usual. Sarah
longed to talk about the wedding ceremony, but fear of invoking
his anger towards the townspeople in general, and Mr. Andrews in
particular, made her hold her tongue. Ben had been less than complimentary
about the station agent as they drove away from the
church, saying in a loud voice, “Interfering old bastard.” Sarah had
quickly rolled up the truck window.
She tried to think of a safe topic of conversation, and finally decided
to ask about his family. “You told me your mother died three
years ago, Ben, but what about your father? When did you lose
him?”
“He died when I was seven years old. Killed in the first war.”
“Oh, how terrible for you.”
“Didn’t bother me none. I hardly knew him. All I remember is
that he was tall and skinny. He left when I was four…

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073530

Titos Patrikios – Selected Poems

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Gratitude

Oh, your hair that you comb
spreads around us
a forest of lemon trees.
We said: ‘what does he need it
in the stones and salinity
that choke our lives?’
Yet secretly we felt gratitude
as our defeated glance moved
along the inaccessible uphill
until it vanished in your glowing hair.
And, at night, when your hair sprang out
of your white pillow and
flooded your naked shoulders
we felt it
in our lessened loneliness.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562972

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08L1TJNNF

Neo-Hellene Poets, An Anthology of Modern Greek Poetry

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PRAYER OF THE HUMBLE
Lord, evening comes again, and I beseech You.
No soul have I harmed other than my own,
and those who have harmed me are my own beloved.
I have accepted my own share of bitterness
and others’ too. Joy deserted me,
yet still I wait, knowing that to hope is sin.
I love the fear of the night like happiness,
though none knock at my door, only the wind.
I seek no glory, humble in everything I’ve done.
The rain’s song heard at dusk I have enjoyed,
to children I have given laughter and petting to the dogs,
the farmers I have welcomed returning from their toil.
Now nothing more have I to give or to retain,
nor do I expect reward: who could hope for that?
Oh Lord, grace me with my death, I pray.
Thank you for the plains and mountains that I’ve seen

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562959

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763513