This poem is told from the perspective of an American Indian girl who was sent away to an “American” school. It describes her self-identity before she leaves, the voices she hears from outside, and her quest to rediscover herself. I created a distinct cadence for each of the two voices with a bridge between them.
The Drum
by Carrie Hawley
A poem of two voices and two
rhythms.
Sun, moon and stars; land and sky
Rivers, spirits, seasons
The earth’s life pulsing.
My heart beating the earth’s beat.
Steady, constant, throbbing,
Echoed by the drum.
I find rhythm; breathe in sync.
Whirling, stomping, singing,
We dance unified.
The ancient pulse, Old Ones’ sway,
My voice joins the singing.
I know who I am.
You cannot drum. You’ll be like us,
You may not dance. A better way.
You must not sing. Just leave behind
This is your chance. Your savage sway.
In English please; Although you are
No heathen tongue. A lesser race,
Your education In this our land,
Has just begun. You’ll find a place.
March to our drum.
You’ll soon forget.
You’ve got it now.
The tempo’s set.
Merciless pounding, hamm’ring, insisting.
Powerful new beat, no use resisting.
Did I lose my heart?
Where is my rhythm?
Who am I?
Somewhere inside a faint beat,
Nudging, yearning, pulsing.
“Come find me, I’m here.’
The drum softly calls my heart,
“Come look. I’m here. Let’s dance.
I’m found in the woods.”
My heart beating the earth’s beat.
Steady, constant, throbbing.
Found myself again.
I know who I am.