Torn from the comfort and safety of my home

My husband and eldest children had, thankfully, escaped

Leaving a crushing weight unburdening my shoulders

The Indians who have imprisoned me push hard

It has been a long, exhausting day of travel

As my nurse and another captive attempt to keep pace

I clutch my baby close to my heart soothingly

I tire easily when my babe suckles at my breast

<> 

I’ve befriended an English speaking, Indian captive

He has spoken many truths that I must think upon

We are soon to be subjected to the fierce gauntlet

Each Indian warrior, wife or child will take their turn

Bludgeoning my nurse and I, and perhaps…defiling us

I fear their intentions…I fear their ruthlessness

I fear there is no chance for us to survive this

<> 

I fall back in line during the next light of day

The tribe treks forward following the river’s call

Its wet and wild finger pointing farther from my home

A warrior takes notice of how my pace has slackened

He holds satisfaction in blaming the babe I carry

I am helpless as he seizes the bundle from my arms

Loosing the tiny, crying babe from its blanket

Cruelly, while the world stops spinning before my eyes;

He dashes my innocent newborn against a tree

Casting my babe to Heaven before its time

<> 

I cannot stress the pain that encompasses me

Rage commands my mind; my heart ceases to beat

The loins that birthed my child ache with loss

I hover over my still form watching myself surrender

I submit to the all-consuming domination of my grief

Feeble-minded and void of the opportunity to retaliate

I endure my anguish, letting it build inside of me

Suffering my body’s movements as I’m forced to continue

But my every step torments me into thoughts of revenge

Vile ideas that would otherwise never called my mind home

<> 

At nightfall, I push aside my numbness and rise

The brutal tribe sleeps, frolicking in their dream world

I hasten to wake my nurse and the male captive from slumber

Freeing ourselves, we gain access to their tools of death

Finally my hate is unleashed and permitted to run its course

We send all but three souls to their graves victoriously

A woman escapes with excessive wounds…into the night

A young boy lives to see my vengeance unmasked

An Indian infant; nestled in its animal skins…

I raise my hatchet only to let it fall un-bloodied

With an ironic mercy that was not gifted to my child

<> 

I gaze around me in the dark, feeling justified over our deeds

The three of us flee into the black night seeking the river

We liberate all canoes save one…which we commandeer

But I realize no one will believe I have avenged my babe

The cold monster grows in me once more, choking my breath

I demand my companions wait in the boat for my return

With a renewal of my gaping, spiritual affliction surging…

I collect the scalps of our ten foes with one of their own hatchets

<> 

I rejoin my accomplices and we ride adrift on the river

We let nature rush us away from our horrid ordeal…from my sorrow

I smile…scalps in hand, wrapping them in a cloth

I angle my visage upward to spy on Heaven

Beseeching God’s forgiveness and my babe’s patience

Some day I will join them…today is not that day

<>The End<>

Sheila Roy ~ Oct. 2005