Broken Vows

James Joyce, Irish, great poet and writer, lived at the turn of the century. For daring to criticize the blindness of his fellow countrymen, he was ostracized from Ireland after his first book was published in Dublin. All his works were destroyed by his publisher. He left Dublin in 1904, never to return, living out the rest of his years in Paris and Zurich. The work of an artist and writer speaks of his own time and culture. A great writer continues to speak to the new generations. Indeed, a hundred years later, Joyce has something to tell us. This poem is taken from a larger work called, The Dubliners, from the last work called, The Dead. You must remember that the Irish were the Native people, whom England subjagated for so many years. Colonization. Death of a culture. People going to sleep as warriors, and waking up as sheep, and not even realizing a metamorphisis has taken place! Who is this poem being addressed? a faithless lover? a friend? a culture of people? Joyce never tells us, yet the "you" in this poem could be all of the above. I like to look at it as the decimation of a culture willingly destroyed by the inmates. As you observe, the "you" is personal, known, could be your aunt or your son, father or mother. "It is late last night the dog was speaking of you;" Yet at the same time, this is not anyone who can be found, or can be blamed. For example, we all love to blame the IRA government for all our woes. But who is the IRA government, really? Who works in the Tribal building, the programs, the schools? "You promised me, and you said a lie to me, that you would be before me where the sheep are flocked; I gave a whistle and three hundred cries to you, and I found nothing there but a bleating lamb." Isn't it true? No more eagles, or bears, or buffaloes, or horses-----just sheep, a bleating lamb. Like cows in the field, you line up to take your orders. Who is giving the orders? Is it the bad white man? Who is evicting you from your house? Who hocked your land? Who is destroying your culture today? How many of you are really implementing the no-child-left-behind? Who is teaching the children to line up and take orders? Who is passing on the knowledge of the culture? I keep hearing that by saving the language, you are saving the culture. Is that all there is to culture? "You promised me a thing that is not possible, that you would give me gloves of the skin of a fish;" Let me put it this way, even if you got the Black Hills back, don't you think they would be a little tarnished, polluted, used and abused, no longer the same? Don't you know that you carry your culture in heart, and live it every day, every minute, or it is dead? "The extent to which the state made Gaelic a compulsory part of the education system created a lot of resentment in Ireland," he argues. For Scottish Gaels, exposure to the language must be "an issue of parental and individual choice". My mother said to me not to be talking with you to-day, or tomorrow, or on the Sunday; it was a bad time she took for telling me that; it was shutting the door after the house was robbed. This is about grief and loss, the vile taking of something, a rape, the taking of a culture, and the person doesn't even recognize he stole anything. My heart is as black as the blackness of the sloe, or the black coal that is on the smith's forge; or as the sole of a shoe left in white halls; it was you put that darkness into my life. There's only a few people left now, who know what the culture was. What we have today is Cecilia Fire Thunder making a compact with the state on the lives of two Lakota boys, victims of a crime, accused by the State of South Dakota as the perpetrators of the crime. We have Federal and State judges declaring Lakotas guilty, denying them a trial, just plead guilty and get sent off. We have people in Tribal courts taking children from their mothers and giving them away. You have taken the east from me; you have taken the west from me; you have taken what is before me and what is behind me; you have taken the moon, you have taken the sun from me; and my fear is great that you have taken God from me! Someone who still knows the culture will know what it is was to be violated, robbed of a cultural identity in every way, with absolutely no one to turn to. If there are only two of you left out there, who understand what I am saying, I am speaking to you, for a great culture only exists in the heart and mind. We hear a lot about identity theft, yet they are only talking about money. What do they know of being robbed of your total identity? Now, after they defiled it, defamed it, denuded it, shamed it, changed it; now they want to give it back to you. If you read this with any kind of recognition, then remember those tears they stole from you. If you realize what I am saying, you will start crying, and may not stop for a week. If they is anyone who is like-minded, you will not have to speak. You will recognize each other in your tears. I dedicate the interpretation of this great poem to all those Lakotas who still know what it is to be and live Lakota; there's so few of you left. And to all those Iraqis, who are experiencing today, what Lakotas endured 100 years ago. I especially dedicate this to my partner and co-founder, Lucy Bull Bear of Lakota Wawokia Civil Rights Organization, and our advisors Mildred Hazel Thunder Bull and Lavonne King, all who are steeped in the Lakota tradition and spiritual ways.