by Dorothy Blackcrow Mack

 

    John G. Neihart, Nebraska's
    Poet Laureate, loved Aeschylus
    and Indians, the tragic view
    of life; he wrote an epic poem,
    "The Twilight of the Sioux."

    During the Depression he ran
    out of ideas, so he wandered
    into Pine Ridge in search
    of a traditional Sioux
    medicine man, someone who'd
    fought at Little Big Horn
    and Wounded Knee, who'd seen
     it all; then he, John Neihardt, 
    would write his sacred epic story.

    At the trading post they sidetracked
    him, sent him out to Manderson
    to Black Elk's place. Welcomed
    with dry meat and coffee,
    the old gents came to listen in a tipi,
    witness to the truth of Black Elk's
    words, and feast on beef.

    Benjamin Black Elk, the one
    on the nickel, his son, had been to
    Carlisle Indian School, knew English,
    translated as best he could.

    Neihardt brought his two daughters
    along for the adventure. Every day
    Enid transcribed into shorthand; 
    in the afternnons they rode horses
    over the Manderson hills.

    Two years later Black Elk Speaks
    was published. A depression failure,
    remaindered at forty-nine cents,
    brought neither Neihardt nor Nikolas
    money or fame until 1961, long after
    death.

    Do they know they live on in a classic
    which can't be pigeonholed
    as philosophy,
    religion,
    history,
    biography or
    anthropology?