Scarlet Fever

Mother lay on the rickety bed

In the dark back room

Dying from Scarlet Fever.

 

The doctor had come

and did all he knew

how to do. It was out of

his hands.

 

The child dreamed, and

saw and heard

Sounds in the air

Pictures on the clouds

Men on the Moon

Golden Bridges

And, four souls waiting

To come back.

 

The old house heard

her cry

From fever that took

her long black hair

heard her cry

out to all

these things she

did not understand.

 

The cold wind blew

through the cracks

Soothing the fever

Whispering the answers

to her troubled

soul.

 

Great grandmother, Choctaw Maiden

appeared:

“You black coarse Indian hair

gone.

You will have white man’s hair

and an Indian Soul.

Those four souls are waiting for you

You could escape

from these troubles

My Spirit calls you to

Wake

For those four souls will

Touch for Me

and

You

Many souls and

bring

good to a

troubled world

Who knows nothing about carpeted forests

glorious flowers, gentle creatures. It is through you that others will be healed

by your touch.”

 

The child waked,

Fever broken and

asked for

“buttermilk.”