Indian Portrait by Charles M. Russell (1899)


Hóka Hey! Hóka Hey!

I'll live as a warrior
and die as a Crow.
Hóka Hey! Hóka Hey!¹
It's a good day to go.

Death rides our back
from the time of our birth,
and nothing lives long
except mountains and earth.

Death I can face.
What I can't bear
is the look on my people
of pain and despair!

Hóka Hey! Hóka Hey!
Ma-heo-o²...my prayer,
help me to lessen
my people's despair.

No food for your children,
the black, large-beaked birds³;
just skulls on the prairie.
All gone, the brown herds.

Killed off by skin hunters
and seekers who lust
for the Sioux Sacred Hills
and the bright yellow dust.

They crave the Black Hills
where the Great Spirits stay.
I will fight to the death.
Hóka Hey! Hóka Hey!

With sacred sweet root
sanctifying my skin
and paint on my face,
let the battle begin.

Hóka Hey! Hóka Hey!
Ma-heo-o, my cry,
"Hóka Hey! Hóka Hey!
It's a good day to die".

Bette Wolf Duncan

copyright©March1,2006


¹ Hóka Hey! Hóka Hey- “Traditional Sioux warriors would shout ‘Hoka Hey!’ to one another as they charged into battle. In the context of battle, Hóka Hey meant, ‘it is a good day to die.’
²Ma-heo-o-  Sioux for The All Father, the Creator Himself.
³Black Large Beaked Birds -In most Sioux languages, the Crow are called Absarokee, which translates literally to “children of the large beaked bird.” White explorers misunderstood the signing for Absarokee — the flapping of one’s hands like a bird in flight—and called the people “crow.” The Crow, also called the Absaroka or Apsaalooke, are a tribe of Native Americans who historically lived in the Yellowstone river valley and now live on a reservation south of Billings, Montana
                     

   Before battle,  Sioux braves often sanctified their bodies by bathing with sacred sweet root. The account is recorded in the Little Wolf Ledger at the Cheyenne Indian Reservation Historical Archives, of Black Sun. He spent a great deal of time preparing for battle, stripping to the loin cloths and purifying his body with sacred sweet root. He then covered his whole body with Sun's yellow paint. In his hair he wore the stuffed skin of a weasel, representing Ma-heo-o, who had promised to aid him. Then he rode into battle with white soldiers singing,
                      I do not wish to be an old man.
                      This day is mine to die.
The soldiers fired many shots at him without touching him. Finally, one of them got behind him and shot him. The bullet caught him in the bowel, and passed through the stomach. He dropped to the ground, still alive but unable to move. White Bull, a Miniconjou, ran through the bullets, grabbed Black Sun and dragged him to safety. He died that night at his lodge.  The Sacred Powers granted him his wish to die while his body was still young.

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