I ordered my boy York to dance. The Indians seem
amazed that a man so large is so light on his feet.
—William Clark
Something like leaving happens
when I be ordered to dance.
Not the pack up camp an go kinda leave
but how things might be if my mind
weren’t shackled inside my head
like dreaming but not being asleep.
I might take a puff a tobacco, tie on
a piece a red cloth an wave my hatchet
’round my head to get my mind right.
An once I gets good an loose, I starts
to feel lighter an lighter ’til soon
I hardly weighs nothing at all.
I spends as much time in the air
as on my feet an after a while it’s like
my soul be dancing to drums that thunder
an I be a small child on the ground watching
my body follow the music, catch it
then leave it to make its own.
My captain think it make him look more powerful
to order a man such as me to dance
but the Indians see my body move by its own spirit
an not by a white man’s hand
raise they voices, sing nothing but praises
an join me in the air.