Spring of 2000

in the year of our Lord,

my birthplace Oswego New York

Had much trouble sleeping one night

Saw such a vision that gave me a fright

The room was dark, there wasn’t a sound

House was built on an Indian burial mound

Out of the darkness there appeared a mask

The sight of his disguise made me gasp

His hair was wild, his skin was green

even with that he didn’t look mean

What stood out about him most

was his big crooked nose

He moved his mouth

but never spoke

Then disappeared after blowing a cloud of smoke

I tossed and turned but I just couldn’t sleep

not understanding what this could mean

didn’t know

the story

or lore

turn the calendar to 2004

Rosie and I went to the bookstore

Went to the car to check out my find

what I saw made my eyes open wide

Looking at me from up off of the page

was Old Broken-nose, the Indian sage

the land of the Iroquois is where it began

According to legend, he was the first man

In a contest of power, he  injured his nose

moving a mountain the traditional story goes

In healing rites

his mouth would twist

blowing out hot ashes over the sick

Secrets learned from Spirit Medicine Man

In reverence the Dance of the False Faces began

He was one of the Spirits the woods hunters would see

Old Broken-nose was a member of the Iroquois False Face Society

It was a blessing he visited me

I walked up and down the streets of that town

apologizing to the Spirits who once possessed that hallowed ground

No matter what race

or color of face,

unless you’re Native

every place you traipse

belongs to them

why it’s not theirs to claim,

is our governments shame