QU’APPELLE AND ESL
(Cree – Kah-tep-was “The river that calls”)
They come today
from countries far away
to learn this country’s
names for river, lake, and tree
There was a time
the natives of this land
sat in braided fear
learning to forget them
DISSECTING THE FROG OF WAR
And when did the buffalo
driven over the cliff
become the lemming leaping
as if the decision was his own
WISDOM TEETH
Eskimo candy
is what we called
the marrow in the bones
If we had learned from them
instead of them from us
we’d all still have our teeth
NORTH OF THE MEDICINE LINE
Given the theory
with some evidence
that the natives of this land
had about the same tolerance
for alcohol as they had for smallpox
and because someone “knew better”
they were not allowed to buy it
If your husband, although a member
of a supposed superior European race
showed a weakness for the drink
and a strong tendency to spend
the grocery money on the demon rum
You’d just go to the proper authorities
have him knocked down one race
quickly added to the Indian list
and barred from every bar
And there we were
children of the tolerant Swiss
eating nigger toes at Christmas
(we think them Brazil nuts now)
all thinking it all perfectly natural
WHAT WE OWE
For all those who harmed
my father and my father’s father
For all those my father
and my father’s father brought to harm
How do we now walk arm in arm
Shall we start by tallying
what we owe and where the payment ends
An apology for sure
A compensation maybe
Never a revenge
KENDRA
When the natives of this land
suffered a death such as this
they knew how to grieve
They felt it to the depths of their being
and cut deep into their arms and legs
that they might reach deeper
Today my great friends
I reach and bleed with you
Written for my cousin Kenny and his wife Betty on the tragic loss of their eighteen year old daughter
MANIWAKI MOON
Through the sacred fire at the sacred lake
by the tree twice lightning struck
sacred tobacco and sacred cedar
burned in a sacred way
We circle and leave by the Eastern door
BLACK HILLS OF DAKOTA
The red man mines his life for irony
while the white man tears the earth for iron
But treaties protect the sacred stones
as long as rivers flow and grass grow
Paper covers rock
in the Black Hills of Dakota
Gold in the Black Hills, end of treaty
Scissors cut paper
in the Black Hills of Dakota
But sacred stones outlive them all
Rock breaks scissors
in the Black Hills of Dakota
THE HANGED MAN
White hands red
with the blood of eighty
million red men dead
With a soul
that’s been through a Sioux or two
Upside down on a tarot card
hanging between the worlds
THOUGHTS TO PONDER – a story from the internet
An old Native American grandfather was talking to his grandson about how he felt about the tragedy (9-11) and what should be done.
He said “I have two wolves fighting in my heart. One wolf is the vengeful, angry, violent one. The other wolf is the loving compassionate one.”
“So,” asked the grandson, “which wolf will win the fight in your heart?”
“The one that I feed,” answered the grandfather