Son Of A Cow

   I'm at work one afternoon and the guys were talking about trash talking and some of the more unique names we've been called in our day.  We got onto the subject of nicknames we had at one time or another.  There were a few good laughs in that conversation.  Oddly, just about everywhere I've worked, Chief was the most widely used.  Go figure. 

  I've also been thinking about a lot of Native topics again recently.  Different things have come up that have had me pondering without end.  I've got to find a way to get back to Indian country, but that's a blog for another day.  What if these two things converged and I was called a name, but in a Native sense?  There's a few that come to mind but I won't get nasty here.  One of the ones that came to mind was Son Of A Cow.  I've been called similar things, for sure.  Ha!

  So, seriously, I'm thinking about being called Son Of A Cow.  What would that mean to me as a Native?  Is that an insult?  Isn't that just being silly?  It might be silly if this thought didn't inspire me to write another poem.  To try and turn that around so it didn't sound ridiculous, I'd also be a son of a cow if I were:

Brother To The Calf

On a solitary hunt,

I walked among the buffalo

Shoulder to shoulder, unchallenged by the herd

Brother to the calf, son of the cow

Covered in my hide and horns

To the spirit of the buffalo I sang my song and gave my word

We shared these hills

My people and the buffalo

The water of the stream, the grass and the trees

There was balance in our numbers

And the beat of our hearts

And we both danced and bellowed and ran across wide prairies

Through deep winter snow

And long hazy summer days

Born to wander this free and open land

But the times would change

Many of our brothers would fall

Pray for the lonely buffalo and what was a free, free man

Pony soldiers killed

And brought the end of days

While we told our children a story

A rebirth of the son of the cow

A brother to the calf

The great white buffalo in all its splendor and glory

Now we give praise

And care for the buffalo

We are one with the herd once again

Brother to the calf, son of the cow

We return to our ways

The strong and proud buffalo and his brother, the Indian