Angel Maiden Of The Sioux Poem by Steve Trimmer

She descends from a trail
Wending downward
From The Black Hills;
They call Her…………White Pony Girl

A Priestess is She
Of…….. Ptesan Wi
An Angel Girl………………. of The White Buffalo Calf Woman

One smile sent from Her
So enamours any man
A divinatory gait, as so
Ambulating; walking fore’er in The Light

A healer of Sitting Bull’s own heart
She tends to the wounded……at Little Big Horn
Such a comely heart is Hers (yet it breaks inwardly)

These wars with The White Eye
She can not abide (suffer does She in silent disdain of it)
Yet, She will leave no man unattended
When bullet or arrow stricken
Nor no dying Brave or Blue Coat uncomforted
Ere their crossing

She loves an’ cares for them all
Regardless of their campaign status, tribe or rank
Healing all these folly men
Sioux or contrariwise
Her heart ululates, reft in anguish
Like The Wolves who run with Her
………but still She loves them all


As She scrys Her own reflection at Lady River’s edge;
Pony Girl scoops a pail of Her own healing waters
So blessed be it
For it’s healing properties couldst surely rival
Any medicines in urban-wrought modernity

Mesmerized by Her benevolent smile………


………My memories race to childhood
An indigent Irish boy was I
Our family banished from our lands
By landlords of absolute misanthropy

Potato crops a’ failing
An’ distraught spirits to match them
We stowed away on an America-bound vessel
With only hope to guide our destiny of un-sureties
My Mother’s lugubrious face; tear-laden
She would comfort me……with such bravery

We landed in Boston Harbour
Then fled the barrage of expletives an’ musket-balls
Which were volleyed toward us
My father makes supplications to Lady Brigit
We board a carriage illicitly
Westbound for The Dakota Territories

We were once Druids of Brugh na Boyne
Made criminals in our own lands
Once of The Sidhe People
Now reduced to common brigands
Yet, truth is still our own………archaic-forged
From smithies and ingots devoid of dross hewn mendaciousness

Over 3 decades later…………….here I am
My family now in Avalon; led by Rhiannon’s own mare
It be only I left here in this realm of humanity (or inhumanity it oft times seems)
Still in The New World am I
Once a wee lad, besotted by penury
Now a deserter from The Cavalry ranks of rancid politics

Blue Coats murdered my family
In a backwoods Witch Hunt of rancourous zeal
The Lakota were our friends………...fellow shamans as it were
For this my kin hath died
And I, forced into rank an’ service by the Blue-coated acolytes of war gods

I now fight ’longside my Sisters an’ Brothers of The Black Hills magick
The Lakota re-name me………..Green Eye Raven Coat……..such an honour
Bounty now laid upon my head; by star-spangled neophytes
I carry it with pride
For, now I serve Wakan Tanka and wise Ptesan Wi


…………Pony Girl still smiles down at me

She pulls the Bowie Knife from shoulder
Lodged only inches from my beating heart
I speak to Her in Gaelic…….as I am in colossal pain
She looks curiously at me; confounded by my words
Yet….smiles at any rate an’ tends my wounds

Blessed be my healer……………

…………Beautiful White Pony Girl

I hath found thee once more


Steve Trimmer





* To a life that was once shared with the woman I love……….to dearest Chrissy, my White Pony Girl.