I Found an old pair of Moccasins,
They were the perfect size for my Feet,
And when I put them on,
They Shook & started to Speak.

I had so many Questions,
That I did not let them Talk,
But I had a good Feeling,
The Real Message will be in My Walk.

They live their life,
Always touching Mother Earth,
So they Never Forget,
Who gave them Birth.

Were these Moccasins worn by a
Woodland, Smoke,
Or Jingle Dress Dancer?
They look like they’ve traveled many Paths,

This Journey will reveal the Answer.
I noticed on them,
Small scars and marks,
Perhaps Sweat,

From Sacred Rocks,
Or maybe Uncle Henry,
As he carved,
A Cedar Box.

These Mocs could have been Auntie Laura’s,
Sharing all those Legends & Scary Things,
Inspiring the Story Teller:
Turn these Moccasins to Feathers,

& Escape on Black Wings!
Were they on the feet of great Uncle Sampson?
He was known for his Handmade Baskets and Carved Bows,
He made a living Selling them to White People,

As he stood by the side of the Road.
They said he was the Kindest Man,
Took all the kids Spear Fishing every June,
And perhaps he left behind these Moccasins,
Because alcohol killed him too soon.

These could have been Grandma Lucy’s,
Worn as she gathered Dandelion Roots.
She died a Month before I was born,
At 5 I wore Grandpa’s Boots.

Those Snow Shoes were too big for me,
I fell and hit my Eye,
Grandpa picked me Up,
& rocked me by his Side.

The Scar is still there,
And I am thankful for the Time;
After all that’s happened,
I think these Moccasins are mine.