by Stephen Barile
Bill told me when he was a boy
Two federal officers and an Indian agent
Came to his parent’s hogan,
And against his mother’s will
Put him on a bus with other Navajo boys
He knew and delivered them to Tolatchi.
On the bus trip there,
From the window, he kept careful watch
Of the position of the sun
In the afternoon sky as a means
To guide him home to Chinle,
He said, pointing to the clouds.
Bill moved closer as he bragged,
Navajo were experts at disappearing
quickly and hiding in the vast lands.
At Chuska Indian Boarding School
He would be assimilated
Into American culture,
Given an American-style haircut,
Dressed in a white child’s clothes,
Forbidden to speak his only language.
From the moment he arrived,
He could no longer be an Indian.
They cut off his hair,
Forbade singing and dancing.
He waited until dark, then ran
In the direction of his family home.
Bill figured he ran south
Near Tse Bonito. At Separate Hill,
A search party nearly captured him.
He kept on running in the night
South to Mexican Springs and Nakaibito
At sunrise, he was west of Kinlichee.
Over the next two days, he found food
And rested, then ran to Nazlini, then Chinle.
It took him three days to get there.
His mother hid him carefully
When Indian agents came around
To check on his whereabouts.
Stephen Barile, a Fresno, California native, educated in the public schools, attended Fresno City College, Fresno Pacific University, and California State University, Fresno. He was a long-time member of the Fresno Poet's Association. Stephen Barile taught writing at Madera Community College and CSU Fresno. His poems have been published in Featured Poets, Santa Clara Review, Kathmandu Tribune, Tower Poetry, As It Ought To Be Magazine, Rue Scribe, Open: Journal of Arts & Letters, Metafore Magazine, From Sac Literary Journal, The Heartland Review, Rio Grande Review, The Broad River Review, The San Joaquin Review, Haight-Ashbury Literary Journal, and Pharos, among others journals.
