{"id":187206,"url":"https://www.kudos365.com/news/187206-the-indian-s-awakening-by-zitkala-sa-red-bird-gertrude-simmons-bonnin-1916","short_url":"https://www.kudos365.com/news/187206","headline":"The Indian’s Awakening || by Zitkála-Šá -\"Red Bird\"/Gertrude Simmons Bonnin. (1916)","content":"\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eI snatch at my eagle plumes and long hair. \u003cbr\u003eA hand cut my hair; my robes did deplete. \u003cbr\u003eLeft heart all unchanged; the work incomplete. \u003cbr\u003eThese favors unsought, I’ve paid since with care. \u003cbr\u003eDear teacher, you wished so much good to me, \u003cbr\u003eThat though I was blind, I strove hard to see. \u003cbr\u003eHad you then, no courage frankly to tell \u003cbr\u003eOld-race problems, Christ e’en failed to expel? \u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eMy light has grown dim, and black the abyss \u003cbr\u003eThat yawns at my feet. No bordering shore; \u003cbr\u003eNo bottom e’er found my hopes sunk before. \u003cbr\u003eDespair I of good from deeds gone amiss. \u003cbr\u003eMy people, may God have pity on you! \u003cbr\u003eThe learning I hoped in you to imbue \u003cbr\u003eTurns bitterly vain to meet both our needs. \u003cbr\u003eNo Sun for the flowers, vain planting seeds. \u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eI’ve lost my long hair; my eagle plumes too. \u003cbr\u003eFrom you my own people, I’ve gone astray. \u003cbr\u003eA wanderer now, with no where to stay. \u003cbr\u003eThe Will-o-the-wisp learning, it brought me rue. \u003cbr\u003eIt brings no admittance. Where I have knocked \u003cbr\u003eSome evil imps, hearts, have bolted and locked. \u003cbr\u003eAlone with the night and fearful Abyss \u003cbr\u003eI stand isolated, life gone amiss. \u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eIntensified hush chills all my proud soul. \u003cbr\u003eOh, what am I? Whither bound thus and why? \u003cbr\u003eIs there not a God on whom to rely? \u003cbr\u003eA part of His Plan, the atoms enroll? \u003cbr\u003eIn answer, there comes a sweet Voice and clear, \u003cbr\u003eMy loneliness soothes with sounding so near. \u003cbr\u003eA drink to my thirst, each vibrating note. \u003cbr\u003eMy vexing old burdens fall far remote. \u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003e“Then close your sad eyes. Your spirit regain. \u003cbr\u003eBehold what fantastic symbols abound, \u003cbr\u003eWhat wondrous host of cosmos around. \u003cbr\u003eFrom silvery sand, the tiniest grain \u003cbr\u003eTo man and the planet, God’s at the heart. \u003cbr\u003eIn shifting mosaic, souls doth impart. \u003cbr\u003eHis spirits who pass through multiformed earth \u003cbr\u003eSome lesson of life must learn in each birth.” \u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eDivinely the Voice sang. I felt refreshed. \u003cbr\u003eAnd vanished the night, abyss and despair. \u003cbr\u003eHarmonious kinship made all things fair. \u003cbr\u003eI yearned with my soul to venture unleashed. \u003cbr\u003eSweet freedom. There stood in waiting, a steed \u003cbr\u003eAll prancing, well bridled, saddled for speed. \u003cbr\u003eA foot in the stirrup! Off with a bound! \u003cbr\u003eAs light as a feather, making no sound. \u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eThrough ether, long leagues we galloped away. \u003cbr\u003eAn angry red river, we shyed in dismay, \u003cbr\u003eFor here were men sacrificed (cruel deed) \u003cbr\u003eTo reptiles and monsters, war, graft, and greed. \u003cbr\u003eA jungle of discord drops in the rear. \u003cbr\u003eBy silence is quelled suspicious old fear, \u003cbr\u003eAnd spite-gnats’ low buzz is muffled at last. \u003cbr\u003eExploring the spirit, I must ride fast. \u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eAway from these worldly ones, let us go, \u003cbr\u003eAlong a worn trail, much travelled and—Lo! \u003cbr\u003eFamiliar the scenes that come rushing by. \u003cbr\u003eNow billowy sea and now azure sky. \u003cbr\u003eAmid that enchanted spade, as they spun \u003cbr\u003eSun, moon, and the stars, their own orbits run! \u003cbr\u003eGreat Spirit, in realms so infinite reigns; \u003cbr\u003eAnd wonderful wide are all His domains. \u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eHark! Here in the Spirit-world, He doth hold \u003cbr\u003eA village of Indians, camped as of old. \u003cbr\u003eEarth-legends by their fires, some did review, \u003cbr\u003eWhile flowers and trees more radiant grew. \u003cbr\u003e“Oh, You were all dead! In Lethe you were tossed!” \u003cbr\u003eI cried, “Every where ’twas told you were lost! \u003cbr\u003eForsooth, they did scan your footprints on sand. \u003cbr\u003eBereaved, I did mourn your fearful sad end.” \u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eThen spoke One of the Spirit Space, so sedate. \u003cbr\u003e“My child, We are souls, forever and aye. \u003cbr\u003eThe signs in our orbits point us the way. \u003cbr\u003eLike planets, we do not tarry nor wait. \u003cbr\u003eThose memories dim, from Dust to the Man, \u003cbr\u003eCalled Instincts, are trophies won while we ran. \u003cbr\u003eNow various stars where loved ones remain \u003cbr\u003eAre linked to our hearts with Memory-chain.” \u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003e“In journeying here, the Aeons we’ve spent \u003cbr\u003eAre countless and strange. How well I recall \u003cbr\u003eOld Earth trails: the River Red; above all \u003cbr\u003eThe Desert sands burning us with intent. \u003cbr\u003eAll these we have passed to learn some new thing. \u003cbr\u003eOh hear me! Your dead doth lustily sing! \u003cbr\u003e‘Rejoice! Gift of Life pray waste not in wails!\u003cbr\u003eThe maker of Souls forever prevails!’” \u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cem\u003eDirect from the Spirit-world came my steed. \u003cbr\u003eThe phantom has place in what was all planned. \u003cbr\u003eHe carried me back to God and the land \u003cbr\u003eWhere all harmony, peace and love are the creed. \u003cbr\u003eIn triumph, I cite my Joyous return. \u003cbr\u003eThe smallest wee creature I dare not spurn. \u003cbr\u003eI sing “Gift of Life, pray waste not in wails! \u003cbr\u003eThe Maker of Souls forever prevails!”\u003c/em\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003eZitkála-Šá (“Red Bird”), also known as Gertrude Simmons Bonnin\u003c/strong\u003e, (1876 - 1938) was \u003ca href=\"https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yankton_Dakota\" class=\"mw-redirect\" title=\"Yankton Dakota\" style=\"text-decoration: none; color: rgb(51, 102, 204); background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); overflow-wrap: break-word; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; white-space: normal;\"\u003eYankton Dakota\u003c/a\u003e\u0026nbsp;writer, editor, translator, musician, educator, and\u0026nbsp;political activist who fought for women's suffrage and Indigenous voting rights in the early 20th century. Her writings and activism led to citizenship and voting rights for not only women, but all Indigenous people. She was the author of \"American Indian Stories\", \"Old Indian Legends,\" \"Americanize The First American,\" and others. Member of the Woman's National Foundation, League of American Pen-Women, and the Washington Salon. This poem recounts the cutting of her hair by employees of White’s Indiana Manual Labor Institute in Wabash, Indiana, where Zitkála-Šá was boarded for three years. \u003ca href=\"https://www.womenshistory.org/education-resources/biographies/zitkala-sa\"\u003eMore\u003c/a\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThis poem is in the public domain\u003c/p\u003e","content_plain":"I snatch at my eagle plumes and long hair. A hand cut my hair; my robes did deplete. Left heart all unchanged; the work incomplete. These favors unsought, I’ve paid since with care. Dear teacher, you wished so much good to me, That though I was blind, I strove hard to see. Had you then, no courage frankly to tell Old-race problems, Christ e’en failed to expel? My light has grown dim, and black the abyss That yawns at my feet. No bordering shore; No bottom e’er found my hopes sunk before. Despair I of good from deeds gone amiss. My people, may God have pity on you! The learning I hoped in you to imbue Turns bitterly vain to meet both our needs. No Sun for the flowers, vain planting seeds. I’ve lost my long hair; my eagle plumes too. From you my own people, I’ve gone astray. A wanderer now, with no where to stay. The Will-o-the-wisp learning, it brought me rue. It brings no admittance. Where I have knocked Some evil imps, hearts, have bolted and locked. Alone with the night and fearful Abyss I stand isolated, life gone amiss. Intensified hush chills all my proud soul. Oh, what am I? Whither bound thus and why? Is there not a God on whom to rely? A part of His Plan, the atoms enroll? In answer, there comes a sweet Voice and clear, My loneliness soothes with sounding so near. A drink to my thirst, each vibrating note. My vexing old burdens fall far remote. “Then close your sad eyes. Your spirit regain. Behold what fantastic symbols abound, What wondrous host of cosmos around. From silvery sand, the tiniest grain To man and the planet, God’s at the heart. In shifting mosaic, souls doth impart. His spirits who pass through multiformed earth Some lesson of life must learn in each birth.” Divinely the Voice sang. I felt refreshed. And vanished the night, abyss and despair. Harmonious kinship made all things fair. I yearned with my soul to venture unleashed. Sweet freedom. There stood in waiting, a steed All prancing, well bridled, saddled for speed. A foot in the stirrup! Off with a bound! As light as a feather, making no sound. Through ether, long leagues we galloped away. An angry red river, we shyed in dismay, For here were men sacrificed (cruel deed) To reptiles and monsters, war, graft, and greed. A jungle of discord drops in the rear. By silence is quelled suspicious old fear, And spite-gnats’ low buzz is muffled at last. Exploring the spirit, I must ride fast. Away from these worldly ones, let us go, Along a worn trail, much travelled and—Lo! Familiar the scenes that come rushing by. Now billowy sea and now azure sky. Amid that enchanted spade, as they spun Sun, moon, and the stars, their own orbits run! Great Spirit, in realms so infinite reigns; And wonderful wide are all His domains. Hark! Here in the Spirit-world, He doth hold A village of Indians, camped as of old. Earth-legends by their fires, some did review, While flowers and trees more radiant grew. “Oh, You were all dead! In Lethe you were tossed!” I cried, “Every where ’twas told you were lost! Forsooth, they did scan your footprints on sand. Bereaved, I did mourn your fearful sad end.” Then spoke One of the Spirit Space, so sedate. “My child, We are souls, forever and aye. The signs in our orbits point us the way. Like planets, we do not tarry nor wait. Those memories dim, from Dust to the Man, Called Instincts, are trophies won while we ran. Now various stars where loved ones remain Are linked to our hearts with Memory-chain.” “In journeying here, the Aeons we’ve spent Are countless and strange. How well I recall Old Earth trails: the River Red; above all The Desert sands burning us with intent. All these we have passed to learn some new thing. Oh hear me! Your dead doth lustily sing! ‘Rejoice! Gift of Life pray waste not in wails!The maker of Souls forever prevails!’” Direct from the Spirit-world came my steed. The phantom has place in what was all planned. He carried me back to God and the land Where all harmony, peace and love are the creed. In triumph, I cite my Joyous return. The smallest wee creature I dare not spurn. I sing “Gift of Life, pray waste not in wails! The Maker of Souls forever prevails!”Zitkála-Šá (“Red Bird”), also known as Gertrude Simmons Bonnin, (1876 - 1938) was Yankton Dakota writer, editor, translator, musician, educator, and political activist who fought for women's suffrage and Indigenous voting rights in the early 20th century. Her writings and activism led to citizenship and voting rights for not only women, but all Indigenous people. She was the author of \"American Indian Stories\", \"Old Indian Legends,\" \"Americanize The First American,\" and others. Member of the Woman's National Foundation, League of American Pen-Women, and the Washington Salon. This poem recounts the cutting of her hair by employees of White’s Indiana Manual Labor Institute in Wabash, Indiana, where Zitkála-Šá was boarded for three years. MoreThis poem is in the public domain","published_at":"2026-08-20T02:59:00-07:00","updated_at":"2026-07-27T13:50:47-07:00","author":{"type":"Person","name":"Poetry Alley","url":"https://www.kudos365.com/profiles/100043-poetry-alley"},"description":"Stay up-to-date with Poetry Alley on Kudos365. View their photo published Aug/20/2026 on Poetry. Browse your favorite topics and share your expertise, too.","type":"photo","image":"https://k365fs.imgix.net/media/BVbpFEYcROmNrQRYoZZR_Zitkala-Sa_American_Indian_Stories.jpg?auto=compress,format\u0026fit=max\u0026w=1200\u0026h=1200\u0026q=48","likes_count":17,"comments_count":1,"categories":[{"name":"Poetry","url":"https://www.kudos365.com/categories/942-poetry"}],"schema":{"@context":"https://schema.org","@type":"CreativeWork","url":"https://www.kudos365.com/news/187206-the-indian-s-awakening-by-zitkala-sa-red-bird-gertrude-simmons-bonnin-1916","headline":"The Indian’s Awakening || by Zitkála-Šá -\"Red Bird\"/Gertrude Simmons Bonnin. (1916)","image":"https://k365fs.imgix.net/media/BVbpFEYcROmNrQRYoZZR_Zitkala-Sa_American_Indian_Stories.jpg?auto=compress,format\u0026fit=max\u0026w=1200\u0026h=1200\u0026q=48","author":{"@type":"Person","name":"Poetry Alley","url":"https://www.kudos365.com/profiles/100043-poetry-alley"},"datePublished":"2026-08-20T02:59:00-07:00","interactionStatistic":[{"@type":"InteractionCounter","interactionType":"https://schema.org/LikeAction","userInteractionCount":17}],"subjectOf":[{"@type":"Thing","name":"Poetry","url":"https://www.kudos365.com/categories/942-poetry"}]}}