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@ 27.225 MHz: An Old Former Settler's Words (Chopin's Nocturnes Playing) Autumn, 1929
At the leading edge of that vast frontier, he
and I explored adolescence's leading
edge: the settler's pale son with blonde hair, and the
native boy with deliciously brown skin and
waist-length, sable hair.
No European prejudice intruded
upon us---shirtless and barefoot in the sun's
light and on soft prairie grass until, naked,
we satisfied our Love's fierce urges in the
most intimate way.
That summer did not seem to last very long.
His people called him to become a warrior
during the uneasy, sometimes unsettled,
Peace; while mine tore apart the fragile Union
their Fathers gave them.
On November twenty-sixth, Sixty-Eight, he
was slain in the horse soldiers' swift charge---Custer's
quite eager and bloodthirsty Seventh---as they
razed the reservation village, his home, near
to the Washita.
Since then, I despise the sound of flutes and high
pitches, playing any music at all, most
notably "Garryowen," that lighthearted
accompaniment to the brutal murder
of my Beloved.
Starward-Led
This is so much more than a
This is so much more than a tragic story of star crossed lovers. It has layers of rapture, agony, rage and a human face put on a shameful moment in history.
Written in the margins is a powerful commentary on injustice. And what is more unjust than the joys of love pulverized, annihilated, by senseless, demonic hate? Bringing the real tragedy to life against a backdrop of sweeping, historical disaster was expertly accomplished in the narration.
Without any unnecessary description, no burdensome explanation, we hear the story through the weary, pain-scarred voice of the old settler, shrewdly juxtaposed with angelic classical music in the background. When his lasting trauma (his aversion to music) is revealed, this detail becomes grimly poignant.
The story itself is a masterclass in vibrant, impactful compression. I felt the full spectrum of emotions like a storm that begins with soft, intoxicating winds and ends with utter destruction. So much lived. So much lost.
Congratulations on another milestone!
I cannot find sufficient
I cannot find sufficient words for an adequate thank you. As always, you have validated the poem. I know you are very busy, so I really appreciate your time.
Starward-Led [in Chrismation, Januarius]