There was a grandfather, his little grandson often came in
the evenings to sit at his knee and ask the many questions that
children ask.
One day the grandson came to his grandfather with a look of
anger on his face. Grandfather said, "Come, sit, tell me
what has happened today."
The child sat and leaned his chin on his Grandfather's knee.
Looking up into the wrinkled, nut brown face and the kind dark
eyes; the child's anger turned to quite tears.
The boy said, "I went to the town today,
with my father, to trade the furs he has collected over the past
several months. I was happy to go, because father said that
since I had helped him with the trapping, I could get something
for me. Something that I wanted. I was so excited to be
in the trading post, I have not been there before. I looked
at many things and finally found a metal knife! It was small,
but good size for me, so father got it for me."
Here the boy laid his head against his grandfather's knee and
became silent. The Grandfather, softly placed his hand
on the boys raven hair and said, "and then what happened?"
Without lifting his head, the boy said, "I
went outside to wait for father, and to admire my new knife in
the sunlight. Some town boys came by and saw me, they got all
around me and starting saying bad things. They called me
dirty and stupid and said that I should not have such a fine knife.
The largest of these boys, pushed me back and I fell over one
of the other boys. I dropped my knife and one of them snatched
it up and they all ran away, laughing."
Here the boy's anger returned, "I hate them,
I hate them all!" The Grandfather, with eyes that have
seen too much, lifted his grandson's face so his eyes looked into
the boys.
Grandfather said, "let me tell you a story.
I too, at times, have felt a great hate for those that have taken
so much, with no sorrow for what they do. But hate wears
you down, and does not hurt your enemy. It is like taking
posion and wishing your enemy would die.
I have struggled with these feelings many times.
It is as if there are two wolves inside me, one is white and one
is black. TheWhite Wolf is good and does no harm. He lives
in harmony with all around him and does not take offense when
no offense was intended. But will only fight when it is right
to do so, and in the right way.
But, the Black Wolf, is full of anger. The littlest
thing will set him into a fit of temper. He fights everyone, all
the time, for no reason. He cannot think because his anger and
hate are so great. It is helpless anger, for his anger will change
nothing.
Sometimes it is hard to live with these two wolves
inside me, for both of them try to dominate my spirit. The boy,
looked intently into his Grandfather's eyes, and ask "Which
one wins Grandfather?"
The Grandfather, smiled and said, "The one
I feed."
© Vickie Smith
