{"id":82347,"date":"2016-11-07T12:00:48","date_gmt":"2016-11-07T12:00:48","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/?p=82347"},"modified":"2016-11-01T16:53:03","modified_gmt":"2016-11-01T16:53:03","slug":"the-song-of-the-hoop","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/2016\/11\/the-song-of-the-hoop\/","title":{"rendered":"The Song of the Hoop"},"content":{"rendered":"

Author\u2019s Note:<\/strong> \u201cThe more things change, the more they stay the same.\u201d\u00a0 And: \u201cIf you live long enough, you see everything.\u201d\u00a0 Sometimes, I think, having lived my 3-score and 10, one may see everything twice\u2026.\u00a0 Sadly, I watch the protests against the Dakota pipeline\u2014that reckless infringement upon the sacred ground of North America\u2019s pre-Columbians\u2014and I know that the struggle against illegitimate power, expropriation and exploitation seems endless; as does the courage, vision and inspiration of those who aspire to a higher sense of common decency, truth, justice and humanity\u2026.This poem was first written in 1972, inspired by my reading the history and drama of the First People\u2019s struggles in books like <\/em>Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee, Black Elk Speaks, Touch the Earth, and others.<\/em><\/p>\n

**************<\/em><\/p>\n

To the Original Peoples of North America, the hoop was a sacred symbol. They believed that order and civilization were within the great hoop of the world, and all chaos was without. Their tribal councils were held in circles; their tipis were round; their mandalas, winding images of dreams.\u00a0 This poem tells the story of Tashtunka Witco, whom the Americans called “Crazy Horse,” and how the West was lost in the last decades of the 19th Century….<\/p>\n

Part 1.\u00a0The Vision<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Hai<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,\u00a0Hey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,
\nHey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,\u00a0Hey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya. \u2026
\nHai<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,\u00a0Hey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,
\nHey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,\u00a0Hey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya. \u2026<\/p>\n

(to be chanted until the Spirit is with one<\/em>)<\/p>\n

Where the horses dance like mad on Paha Sapa;
\nWhere the mountains flow like rivers in the sun,
\nTurning watery golden under the reddening sky;
\nWhere the clouds assume a human, spectral form,
\nFlowering with faces of the still unborn:
\nThere the Grandfathers of our people called me,
\nSmiling behind their wild cloud beards.
\nTheir eyes were holes where the sky entered in,
\nAnd their hands were the ashes of hands.
\nOpening their mouths, hawks soared from them,
\nFluttering, turning in the glistening air.
\nA reed they smoked from bade me have no fear.
\nTo each the reed was handed as a friend.<\/p>\n

Then the Grandfathers bade me follow.
\nThey grew young before me like boys.
\nAnd we hooted and shouted and rode on the wind,
\nOur hair like black fire behind us.
\nThe hooves of our ponies kissed the sweet prairie grass,
\nAnd the air all around us rumbled with storm.
\nAs far as eyes saw, the bison stampeded.
\n\u201cHoka-hey<\/em>!\u201d cried the Grandfathers.
\nLocusts of arrows rained on the prairie.
\n\u201cHoka-hey<\/em>!\u201d cried the women.
\nRed meat hung in the cottonwood branches.<\/p>\n

Over the Greasy Grass we rode,
\nOver the tipis of nations:
\nThe fires of the tribes lit up the hills,
\nThe tipis of Minneconjous flapped in the wind.<\/p>\n

Oglala and Shyela, Hunkpapa and Lakota,
\nSantee and Yanktonai camped by the icy stream.
\nThe stars burned bright in the hair of the Great Father.
\nThe blue river ran swiftly past the tribes.<\/p>\n

All night the Bear Men dance round the fires,
\nAll night their shadows dance on the tipis
\nWhere the children dream; white smoke drifts in the sky.<\/p>\n

Morning, red sun peeks through grey clouds.
\nHigher and higher, rising in the air,
\nThe horses neigh wildly, the Grandfathers shout,
\nAnd the women dance round and round and round, clapping.
\nHundreds of bluecoats bloom in their blood
\nLike hundreds of violets scattered on the hills.<\/p>\n

All this I saw before my springs were ten.
\nAnd after, many times, flew with the spirits
\nTo the other world, shedding the skin of shadows.
\nThe people showed me honor with their eyes.
\nGreat feasts we had, and battles,
\nWith many victories over our enemies,
\nThe rumbling thunder-beings making the bad ones crazy.<\/p>\n

Then we were the first men of the Earth:
\nThe faces of our children shone with morning;
\nSummer and winter the world was rich with heroes.
\nBut now, all\u2019s past; the hoop of the world lies broken.
\nWhirlwind and hailstone pummel the prairie.
\nHungering dogs howl in the bitter air.
\nThe wandering spirits hide.<\/p>\n

Hai<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,\u00a0Hey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,
\nHey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,\u00a0Hey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya. \u2026
\nHai<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,\u00a0Hey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,
\nHey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,\u00a0Hey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya. \u2026<\/p>\n

(let the silence linger<\/em>)<\/p>\n

Part 2.\u00a0The Hope<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Where are you now,\u00a0Tashtunka Witco<\/em>?
\nThe sacred buffalo wallows in his grave.
\nWashita maggots swarm on the prairies.
\nWhere are you now, Tashtunka Witco?
\nTongueless carcasses rot in the red sun.
\nHuman vermin murder holy land.<\/p>\n

Now let us moan, my brothers!
\nThe long-wailing coyotes will not out-grieve us.
\nThe prairie dogs will look at us in pity.
\nAll over the Earth the beasts will tell our story.
\nGather now in the long grass, ghosts of my people.
\nLet your heart-felt cries rend heaven!
\nThe Great Spirit weeps and culls us to His bosom.
\nWe must leave this Earth we loved.
\nNever shall we walk these hills again.<\/p>\n

Where are you now,\u00a0Tashtunka Witco<\/em>?
\nThe clouds blot out the sun; the morning wanes.
\nThe prairie flowers die while still in bud;
\nThe cries of tortured bison scorch the air.<\/p>\n

You saw your children hunted down like dogs,
\nYour women butchered, whittled into bone.
\nYou could not bear the fire-watered eyes
\nOf braves who rode against the Long Hair foe.
\nYou walked into the woods and lived alone.<\/p>\n

You whom the Spirit loved as His own son,
\nWhose eyes, they say, held fire in their core,
\nWho saw the horses dancing in the clouds,
\nWho danced above the rattling Gatling guns\u2013
\nNow you are gone; no more will you walk before us,
\nAnd the long night of our land comes on.<\/p>\n

Hai<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,\u00a0Hey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,
\nHey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,\u00a0Hey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya. \u2026
\nHai<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,\u00a0Hey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,
\nHey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,\u00a0Hey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya. \u2026<\/p>\n

Part 3.\u00a0The Sabers<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

The bluecoat sabers come! The thunderous drum
\nOf horses beats the plains!
\nThe wagon guns are coughing at the hills!
\nLook! It is just meat here which had a name.
\nThe lips that kissed a lover\u2019s kiss the flies.
\nThe innocent die with music,
\nCruel music of the Gatling guns,
\nWhile snow shuts closed forever mouths that sang to God.<\/p>\n

O, Sun that endures forever, men must die!
\nO, Earth that endures forever, men must die!
\nGreat Spirit, spread Your wings above us,
\nHover, Falcon, over Your lost children.<\/em><\/p>\n

The snow falls in the valley of our graves.
\nBones stiffen; dumb mouths sing with wind.
\nThe long night of our land comes on.<\/p>\n

Where are you now,\u00a0Tashtunka Witco<\/em>?
\nAt night, in the disemboweled bodies of horses,
\nOf bison, you slept in howling caves
\nWhile bluecoats fell with the snow.<\/p>\n

Never would you be free again.
\nNever would you walk above the clouds.
\nStaring at embers with your brittle eyes,
\nYou saw the bison skeletons stampede.
\nDancing, you fell; dreaming, you could not rise.
\nAt last, your own tears froze you to the ground.<\/p>\n

O, Sun that endures forever, men must die!
\nO, Earth that endures forever, men must die!<\/em>
\nThe innocent die with music, cruel music,
\nAnd the long night of our land comes on.<\/p>\n

Where are you now,\u00a0Tashtunka Witco<\/em>?
\nCuffed and shackled, a beast with human eyes\u2013
\nThey shoved you to the prison door, they beat you down.
\nYou watched them throw raw beef
\nTo chiefs who ate off floors.<\/p>\n

The vision gnawed; you reeled and cried;
\nYou danced and groaned;
\nThe hot steel flashed inside of you;
\nYou fell like empty sackcloth to the ground.<\/p>\n

Which of them knew you, warrior, spirit\u2013
\nRaging with politics, God, greed and guns?
\nWhich of them saw the poet inside you,
\nBrutal and lusting, with their teeth full of gold?
\nThe old chiefs wept, and sang,
\nAnd shook their heads, remembering, when told.
\nThe sky fell down and cracked the shoulders of the young.<\/p>\n

Hai<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,\u00a0Hey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,
\nHey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,\u00a0Hey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya. \u2026
\nHai<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,\u00a0Hey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,
\nHey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,\u00a0Hey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya. \u2026<\/p>\n

Part 4.\u00a0The Song<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

A man who lived beneath the hot sun\u2019s thumb
\nSaid that if we danced the rains would come
\nAnd white men would grow small and drown.
\nIn every tribe we heard the throbbing drum
\nAnd saw men dance until their feet were numb,
\nAnd heard the crackle of the white man\u2019s gun.<\/p>\n

Now let us make the long march home, my brothers.
\nThe river is frozen with the blood of our warriors.
\nOur chiefs are slain, our daughters have the eyes
\nOf old women, our sons have forgotten who we were.<\/p>\n

While the twilight comes, pull down the tipi poles!
\nLet the ponies step quietly
\nOver the puddles of the moonlit snow.
\nLet the infants make no crying in their nested sleep.
\nOnly the prairie wind will be talking.
\nLet each one linger in his thoughts.<\/p>\n

Great Spirit of the Wind and Waters,
\nThunder and roses dwell within Your arms!<\/em>
\nWe have heard the prairie groan beneath the iron rail.
\nWe have seen the engine streak the clear blue sky.
\nBuffalo is gone, and, now, we, too, must go.<\/p>\n

Let the prairie dogs trace our footsteps.
\nNever again will Earth be young for us,
\nNever again hold out her warm, green arms.
\nNever again will Sky throw back his head
\nAnd laugh until the stars are shaken down.
\nMen\u2019s lives are warm breath mingled with the cold.
\nMen\u2019s lives are footsteps in the snow.<\/p>\n

Now let us make the long march home, my brothers.
\nNever shall we find rest among these mountains.
\nOur Great Grandmother waits in the Valley of Skulls.
\nOnly she will embrace us hereafter.
\nNever shall we roam from her again.
\nWith her only shall we find peace.<\/p>\n

Now brothers, do not weep;
\nYour tears will never melt the snow.
\nNow ponies, step quietly through this dark land.
\nThe branches of the saplings hold the moon
\nAs in a spider\u2019s silvery web.
\nOur Grandfather\u2019s chant to us beyond this snow.
\nListen\u2026 listen\u2026 listen\u2026 listen. \u2026<\/em>
\nSee where the moon spills from the trees on them?
\nO, they are white upon the whiteness of the snow.<\/p>\n

Hai<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,\u00a0Hey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,
\nHey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,\u00a0Hey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya.\u2026
\nHai<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,\u00a0Hey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,
\nHey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya,\u00a0Hey<\/em><\/strong>-ya ya-ya-ya-ya.\u2026<\/p>\n

_________________________________________-<\/p>\n

Gary Corseri is a member of the <\/em>TRANSCEND Network for Peace, Development and Environment.<\/em><\/a> He has published and posted articles, fiction and poems at hundreds of venues, including,<\/em> TMS (Transcend Media Service<\/a>)<\/a>, The New York Times, Village Voice, Redbook Magazine and<\/em> Counterpunch.\u00a0 He has published 2 novels and 2 collections of poetry, and his dramas have been produced on<\/em> PBS-Atlanta and elsewhere.\u00a0 He has performed his poems at the Carter Presidential Library and Museum and has taught in universities in the US and Japan, and in US public schools and prisons.\u00a0 Contact: <\/em>Gary_Corseri@comcast.net<\/em><\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cThe Song of the Hoop\u201d won the Stephen Vincent Benet Narrative Poem Prize in 1972. It was first published in\u00a0<\/em>Poet Lore\u00a0in 1973.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

To the Original Peoples of North America, the hoop was a sacred symbol. They believed that order and civilization were within the great hoop of the world, and all chaos was without. Their tribal councils were held in circles; their tipis were round; their mandalas, winding images of dreams. This poem tells the story of Tashtunka Witco, whom the Americans called “Crazy Horse,” and how the West was lost in the last decades of the 19th Century….<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[182],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-82347","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry-format"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/82347","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=82347"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/82347\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=82347"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=82347"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=82347"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}