My Father Never Told Me
by Mary Agnes
The Dancing Warrior Manitoo
(*A manitoo in the Algonquin tribes is a spirit)
My Father never told us
We come from a tribe.
My uncle said “We’re Miq’mac.”
We laughed –”Big Mac”?
My Father hung his head.
Now we learn the stories
We were never told,
Seeking our songs on the internet,
The myths and tales we could never get
From silent fathers.
“Dancing Warrior Manitoo.”
A wise elder gives the youngest son
A box. Inside, a tiny warrior dancing,
Dancing so much he was sweating
(My ancestors noticed that.)
“What do you want of me?”
The dancing manitoo would ask
When you opened the box. He would do
Anything you wanted him to.
Why wasn’t I told this?
There’s much more, but I stop there,
Feeling the story beat in my blood,
My manitoo lost. I grieve.
He could do anything from his box but leave.
I know him.
5 comments
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May 12, 2008 at 1:34 am
jayherron
a very beautiful poem-I’m fortunate that I came across this,which I understand.
Thanks
May 12, 2008 at 12:58 pm
Kathy
Mary Agnes,
Your poem captured, for me, both the grief of feeling the stories and the history “lost”, and the way they still “beat in our blood”, a part of us. I loved everything about your poem. The line where your father hangs his head when you children laugh. The image of the dancing warrior spirit in the box ~ magical, spiritual, powerful. The ending, “I know him” made me feel comforted that what was lost could be found. Beautiful poem. Thank you.
May 13, 2008 at 5:25 pm
Joy
My goodness, what a poet you are. “Feeling the story beat in my blood” — and you get it all right there. The legend and the loss. I love the transition from “my father never told us” to “now we hear the stories” to the story itself, your relationship to it and the full circle that is drawn. I hope you continue to gift the world with your beautiful verse! xo
May 15, 2008 at 2:20 am
Terrie
Mary Agnes - What lyrical and moving writing this is. The last line of each verse tell the story in syncopated form:
My father hung his head
From silent fathers
My ancestors noticed that
Why wasn’t I told this?
I know him.
I feel your grief and hear the beat in your blood.
Thank you.
May 19, 2008 at 11:14 pm
toni Lansbury
Big Mac!
we learn the stories we were never told
the myths we could never get from silent fathers.
the whole last stanza
you haven’t done poetry here before, so it was a surprise, and a good one! there’s a power here, you can feel in your blood.
i liked this a lot, mary agnes.