Paints His Face Red

The radio show moved through the morning with an easy feeling. The phone rang over and over again with words of support, and one phone call came in from dark soul that thought I was running a scam. Even after all these miles it is hard to let things that have no value fall. I turn her words over and over-- something bad I just had to understand. I know my heart is too much Indian for some. I know I am too white for others. When I began the walk I needed the words my father spoke so log ago. Rasied through alcohol, abuse, divorce, I needed something brillant to tie my feathers to. How I would love to write that my father's words have been set on the earth and I have walked away. I have walked so very far, but still I reach into my shirt at 43 years old and listen to my father tell me that I come from a good place, tell me that this journey of walking among the people matters.