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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=539370" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Report To Crazy Horse</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">All the Sioux were defeated. Our clan <br>got poor, but a few got richer. <br>They fought two wars. I did not <br>take part. No one remembers your vision <br>or even your real name. Now <br>the children go to town and like <br>loud music. I married a Christian. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Crazy Horse, it is not fair <br>to hide a new vision from you. <br>In our schools we are learning <br>to take aim when we talk, and we have <br>found out our enemies. They shift when <br>words do; they even change and hide <br>in every person. A teacher here says <br>hurt or scorned people are places <br>where real enemies hide. He says <br>we should not hurt or scorn anyone, <br>but help them. And I will tell you <br>in a brave way, the way Crazy Horse <br>talked: that teacher is right. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>I will tell you a strange thing: <br>at the rodeo, close to the grandstand, <br>I saw a farm lady scared by a blown <br>piece of paper; and at that place <br>horses and policemen were no longer <br>frightening, but suffering faces were, <br>and the hunched-over backs of the old. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Crazy Horse, tell me if I am right: <br>these are the things we thought we were <br>doing something about. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>In your life you saw many strange things, <br>and I will tell you another: now I salute <br>the white man's flag. But when I salute <br>I hold my hand alertly on the heartbeat <br>and remember all of us and how we depend <br>on a steady pulse together. There are those <br>who salute because they fear other flags <br>or mean to use ours to chase them: <br>I must not allow my part of saluting <br>to mean this. All of our promises, <br>our generous sayings to each other, our <br>honorable intentions—those I affirm <br>when I salute. At these times it is like <br>shutting my eyes and joining a religious <br>colony at prayer in the gray dawn <br>in the deep aisles of a church. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Now I have told you about new times. <br>Yes, I know others will report <br>different things. They have been caught <br>by weak ways. I tell you straight <br>the way it is now, and it is our way, <br>the way we were trying to find. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The chokecherries along our valley <br>still bear a bright fruit. There is good <br>pottery clay north of here. I remember <br>our old places. When I pass the Musselshell <br>I run my hand along those old grooves in the rock.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Stafford">William Stafford</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=539370" data-title="Report To Crazy Horse de William Stafford" data-description="All the Sioux were defeated. Our clan 
got poor, but a few got richer. 
They fought two wars. I did not 
take part. No one remembers your vision 
or even your real name. Now 
the children go to town and like 
loud music. I married a Christian. 


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