Too many of the great American Indian leaders in education are passing. I keep mourning each one as they go beyond the blanket to where I cannot see. Thomas Davis
Hayes Lewis
I have been thinking about Hayes today,
How Agent Orange and his time in Viet Nam got him in the end,
But like all of us,
The ending is not the story,
Not the stone that has been shaped into a fetish
That means more than what it represents.
He was gentle, softspoken,
But the dreams he had!
He wanted to somehow reach into the spirit
Of every Zuni and American Indian child and young person
And stir alive with what they really are,
A blessing on the earth.
A gentle rain after weeks of unrelenting sun
That explodes the high desert into wildflowers,
Sun flowers, bee balm, Indian paintbrush,
The colors of life as bright as any rainbow.
As a Superintendent of Schools
He worked hard to stir up accomplishments
Inherent in spirits touched by the spirit
Of the Zuni heritage and history.
At the Institute of American Indian Arts
He worked to allow the creative fires
At the heart of who American tribal people are
To create a renaissance
So powerful it would wipe away
The foolish prejudices and preconceptions
Of those who still believe that Indian live in teepees
And have failed to join the contemporary world.
At A:shwi College he labored
To bring a college into being,
A tribal college that honored language, culture, and history
By bringing it alive,
Making it the heart of what learning should be.
But even this is only a little bit of what he was.
He has been one of those people
Who speak and people listen.
One of those people whose courage
Is not in their deeds alone,
But in the presence of how they hold themselves
As season passes season and days become a summation
Of all that is good and perfect upon the good earth.
fourwindowspress 