I have no personal recollections of war in this lifetime, but a memory of a long ago time stands clear in my mind.

The memory is of sitting in a creaky old rocking chair by the window of a little log shack in the bush. I have a baby at my breast, three little ones play on the braided rug at my feet. I wait. I wait, in hope that the man I love will soon return.
Some of the men have come home, many of them scarred or crippled, most of them broken by the things they’ve seen, what they have done. Many women have been left alone to survive in this wilderness. Some will return to family in the East, some will stay and fight to keep what they’ve worked so hard to build.
I have skills. As a healer and midwife, I am needed, but can I
survive in this white man’s world without my husband? I know that I can return to my People.

The memory ends there, but the feelings are clear in my mind. Hope, loneliness, desperation and continual waiting. Feelings
that I sure have been shared by every woman from the beginning of
time, who has sat by a window, waiting for her man to return from war.

May the time soon come when this Waiting is over for good.


“Raven Wing”

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