An Imaginary Meeting

I imagined a meeting with Miss Pauline,
Well, that's what they would call her,
The "decent city folk".

"Tekahionwake,"
That's what Dad would say,
"Go out in the world and pave the way..."

She sat at a table across from me,
With a piece of scone and a "cuppa tea",
Her hair like an Englishwoman's,
Mum would have liked that...
But around her copper white neck she wore a string of bear claws.
"Don't tread on me",
They seemed to say,
As she spoke of her homeland far away.

Mohawk wordsmith,
Weaver of words,
You paved the way with your poems.

You obliged me with the "paddle song",*
As they took our cups away,
Then you smiled, gently shook my hand;
You had changed my day...


(*"The Song My Paddle Sings" by E. Pauline Johnson )