THE HANDS THAT BLED
Wambdi Awica Wa'stewin

 

 

     
 

 

I braided ribbons in your war pony's tail
Not knowing you'd untie them down the trail

And soft buckskin I sewed for your calloused feet
Not knowing you'd wear them to my defeat

For your neck, a proud choker I swiftly made
Not knowing you'd show it only to make a trade

A breastplate of finest shell I worked on all day
Not knowing you'd use it to lure a woman astray

Your deeds became widespread, commonly known
I sit in our tipi, my fingers raw to the bone

My awl, my hide, my needle, and my thread
And I tearfully stare at the hands that bled

 
     

 

 

 

 "The Hands That Bled" © 1991, 1995 by Wambdi Awica Wa'stewin
 
     
 

 Original Graphic © 1995 by Jim Davis-Rosenthal
 

 

 

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