A Wind Walker
By Salizan Takisvilainan Translated by C.J. Anderson-Wu
When I was little
My tribal people told me
Wind comes in colors, and it speaks
Wind is the feet of our ancestors’ spirits
Sometimes it walks into our settlement
and takes away those who fall deeply asleep
My Tama[1] , and
chirping insects in the forest
or fawns drifting at night
also had transformed into wind
as we slept
Eagerly I seek the traces of wind
but don’t see its color
nor hear its words
I stretch my wings like an eagle
looking down from the knees of my ancestor’s spirit
my Tama’s territory
and the times of endless relocating
Tama from the mountain range in the middle of the island
Deep in the forest was where the colonialists
caught abundant game
Then the green basins which were surrounded by mountains
became urban jungles constructed by the Republic
Tama from the rift valley along the east coast of the island
dressed in the ceremonial custom embroidered by Grandma
shooting his arrow toward the naked sun
and the winning hand claps as loud as an entire forest[2]
I land in front of the coffin
Wind
tenderly blows passing my cheeks
I hear Tama
follow its sounds and travel afar
toward where the spirits of our ancestors rest