Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

Simon J. Ortiz’s "The Significance of a Veteran’s Day" is a powerful meditation on identity, survival, and historical continuity. As an Acoma Pueblo poet, Ortiz frequently engages with themes of endurance, Indigenous history, and the ways in which colonialism has sought to erase Native identity. In this poem, he challenges the conventional understanding of what it means to be a veteran, expanding the term beyond military service to encompass millennia of survival against displacement, erasure, and systemic oppression. The poem resists the narrow confines of a national holiday that often overlooks the deeper, older struggles of Indigenous peoples, reframing the notion of veteranhood as an ancestral, communal, and existential experience.

The poem begins with a deceptively straightforward statement: "I happen to be a veteran / but you can't tell in how many ways unless I tell you." Ortiz immediately asserts his identity as a veteran, but the phrase “you can’t tell” introduces the idea that this identity is not easily recognizable. This challenges the reader’s preconceived notions of veteranhood, urging them to reconsider what it means to have fought, endured, and survived. The act of telling becomes central—history and experience must be voiced in order to be acknowledged. This introduction sets the stage for a broader exploration of survival that extends far beyond conventional military service.

The next lines shift into personal reflection: "A cold morning waking up on concrete; / I never knew that feeling before, calling for significance, and no one answered." The imagery of waking on concrete evokes a sense of homelessness or displacement, a physical and symbolic estrangement. The phrase “calling for significance, and no one answered” suggests both an individual and collective struggle for recognition. This moment is not just about personal hardship but about the historical marginalization of Indigenous peoples, whose significance has been ignored or denied by dominant narratives. The loneliness in this line echoes the broader experience of Native erasure, where voices calling for acknowledgment often go unheard.

Ortiz then shifts to a much grander scale, collapsing time into a deep ancestral memory: "Let me explain it this way so that you may not go away without knowing a part of me: / that I am a veteran of at least 30,000 years when I travelled with the monumental yearning of glaciers, relieving myself by them, growing, my children seeking shelter by the roots of pines and mountains." Here, the poem expands beyond personal biography to claim a vast historical and geological identity. The speaker does not simply identify as a veteran of a modern war but as part of an ancient continuum, spanning back to the Ice Age. The glaciers’ “monumental yearning” suggests movement, survival, and the passage of time, reinforcing the idea that Indigenous existence is not a recent struggle but an ongoing journey. The mention of children seeking shelter by trees and mountains underscores the deep connection between Indigenous survival and the natural world, positioning the land itself as both witness and protector.

The ancestral wisdom continues: "When it was that time to build, / my grandfather said, 'We cut stone and mixed mud and ate beans and squash and sang while we moved ourselves. That’s what we did.' And I believe him." This passage reaffirms the historical endurance of Indigenous peoples, portraying their resilience not just in terms of survival but in their ability to create, sustain, and celebrate life. The work of cutting stone and mixing mud suggests a deep-rooted knowledge of the land, a connection to tradition that is both practical and cultural. The reference to singing while moving reinforces the idea that survival is not just about endurance but about carrying forward joy, language, and identity. The simple yet powerful statement “And I believe him” affirms trust in ancestral knowledge, resisting the imposed histories that have sought to redefine Indigenous existence.

Ortiz then deepens the poem’s philosophical reflection: "And then later on in the ancient and deep story of all our nights, we contemplated, contemplated not the completion of our age, but the continuance of the universe, the travelling, not the progress, but the humility of our being there." Here, the poem moves beyond the immediate struggle for survival into a contemplation of existence itself. The repetition of “contemplated” suggests a long and deliberate engagement with the nature of time and purpose. Ortiz challenges Western notions of progress, which often equate advancement with conquest or accumulation. Instead, he presents an Indigenous worldview that values continuity over completion, humility over domination. The act of “travelling” rather than “progress” suggests an ongoing journey, an understanding of existence that does not seek to impose control but to live in balance with the universe.

The poem’s closing lines shift back to the contemporary struggle: "Caught now, in the midst of wars against foreign disease, missionaries, / canned food, Dick & Jane textbooks, IBM cards, Western philosophies, General Electric, I am talking about how we have been able to survive insignificance." Here, Ortiz lists the forces of colonialism and modernization that have sought to erase Indigenous identity. Disease, forced religious conversion, processed food that replaces traditional sustenance, assimilationist education, corporate bureaucracy—all these elements represent systemic attempts to redefine and diminish Indigenous existence. The inclusion of “Dick & Jane textbooks,” which were used to teach American children standard English and middle-class norms, highlights the forced imposition of Western cultural values on Indigenous youth. “IBM cards” and “General Electric” extend the critique into the modern age, illustrating how Indigenous people continue to navigate an economic and technological world that often disregards their histories and traditions.

The poem ends with a powerful assertion: "I am talking about how we have been able to survive insignificance." The phrase “survive insignificance” encapsulates the entire poem’s message. Ortiz does not just mean surviving hardship but surviving the attempt to render Indigenous peoples invisible or irrelevant. The survival he speaks of is not just physical but cultural, historical, and spiritual. It is the survival of stories, traditions, and ways of knowing that have been consistently challenged by colonial forces.

Ortiz’s use of free verse enhances the poem’s meditative, reflective quality, allowing thoughts to unfold naturally without rigid constraints. The fluidity of time within the poem—shifting from personal memory to ancestral history to contemporary struggle—mirrors the Indigenous worldview that past, present, and future are interconnected. The lack of punctuation in key moments creates a rhythmic, almost spoken-word quality, reinforcing the oral tradition that underlies much of Ortiz’s work.

"The Significance of a Veteran’s Day" is ultimately a reclamation of history, an assertion that Indigenous survival is not just about enduring wars but about resisting erasure. Ortiz transforms the concept of a veteran from a singular national identity into a broader, deeper recognition of those who have fought to exist for millennia. The poem stands as a declaration that survival itself is an act of defiance, and that Indigenous people, despite every attempt to render them insignificant, continue to carry forward their histories, their stories, and their identities.

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