Our Favorite Poems
I have walked out in rain -- and back in rain
I have outwalked the furthest city light
I have looked down the saddest city lane
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry,
Came over houses from another street
But not to call me back or say good-bye
And further still, at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right
I have been one acquainted with the night
Robert Frost 1874-1963
It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain
I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy. I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty everyday, and if you can source your life on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon
It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children
It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you
keep in the empty moments
Toronto, Canada
So you wanna be an Indian, with your beads and feathers and furs or skins
You wanna cash in on minority programs and grants and being noticed
And you wanna rub shoulders with Brando and go to cocktail parties because suddenly you're interesting and everyone wants to be your friend
So you wanna be an Indian, go to powwows, dance like one
But you don't want to live on a reservation or in some cheap hot & cold frame on the other side of the tracks in a city north of nowhere
And you don't want to think about Sara, 34, with her bloated, cirrhotic belly, dying, and her seven kids, or have your non-Indian friends catch you grinding corn on a metate, or see the peppers and onions hang from the ceiling and kitchen walls in your home
And you don't want to work the potato fields in Idaho or sell turquoise jewelry on the street in Flagstaff
And you don't want to marry a drunken Indian and get beaten up all the time
And you don't want to pray the old way, offer your flesh or fast four days
And you don't want to go to prison for fighting for your rights
So you wanna be an Indian...
Author Unknown
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