Smaknis poem read by Will Basques son Nicholas Charles Basque I have always kept returning ever since the day I was born Each time your drum and circle called, my soul was ripped and torn Forever as I picked up my lance, my quiver and my bow The eagle soaring me on high would swoop down and drop me low But it is my duty to fight for my people and for my nation The test and trials of war are but my sacred tribulations I am called Smaknis In the days of probes and invasions by some other tribes I fought off our enemies so that peace would come alive Yet I was most needed later in a time called 1752 My promise to never surrender, Niskam made come true As my Giganums fought on, never even blinking an eye We won our peace and friendship but it was me who had to die I am called Smaknis I returned in a generation with the echoes of your drumbeat To march with George Washington, with my brothers, the Malecite No retreat - no surrender was our promise at Watertown We protected Americas freedom, we never let them down The guarantee of self-government was what we all agreed But I was killed in action, so our people have the Jay Treaty I am called Smaknis I slept for more generations, well over a hundred years But came to life to return to war to fight in Germany I slogged in mud at Verdun where I saw a new kind of war They called it World War I but World War II was even more I went through hell in a place called Dieppe to land at Normandy I was there to liberate Holland but my body was buried at sea I am called Smaknis As the communist world swept over from Europe to the Far East My reserve back home is what I missed, I hungered for your feast High on a hill in Korea while freezing in the lonely cold I sweated in deep desperation for our orders were to hold Although completely surrounded, we held our positions goal Staving out human wave attacks but I was killed while on patrol I am called Smaknis While as a youth still in my teens, some said I was a fool But boot camp at Parris Island was nothing to residental school I fought in the jungles of Vietnam and kept my Mikmaq pride And brought home my peoples honor through the men I kept alive I was there at Con-Tien and Khesanh, in the battle of Hue/Phu-Bai But as I laid fatally wounded, only Niskam heard my cry I am called Smaknis Dont take your freedom for granted, the Trickster is always at work Hell take and keep, not give and share, the circle would die from hurt I fought for rights and freedom, not just ours but the worlds And laid down my life for my fellow man, no greater love Im told Remember me each summer at mission, pow wows and Maine For Niskam knows if you forget my death, then I have died in vain I am called Smaknis
Posted on: Tue, 11 Nov 2014 21:00:55 +0000
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