The Hunger and the Fire
“Our people’s bodies grew sick on rations, our stomachs aching for corn, mutton, berries, deer, blue corn mush—food that still remembers our names.”
“Our people’s bodies grew sick on rations, our stomachs aching for corn, mutton, berries, deer, blue corn mush—food that still remembers our names.”
“Lessons taught are not written on any whiteboard, and there are no notes to take. Just listen and learn from these professors we don’t call by name.”
“And just as abrupt as it was that day when he became a hero, my hero, he just as quickly became an unidentified monster. A monster with no name.”
“I wish I could talk to her again. I would tell her that she did not fail. That her foundation set up her grandchildren for positivity and great things.”
Native people are born storytellers and have honed their skill over millennia. The poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction selections in this year’s edition showcase the diverse talents and voices of tribal college student writers.
“This was not unusual for my uncle to wake us up all hours of the night, as he was an unusual man with unusual habits—habits I did not understand at such a young age.”
“The shadow is pitch black and there are no features. It is just standing there behind my brother who is sleeping, unaware of our presence. . .”
The award-winning author from the Bois Forte Band of Ojibwe stresses the importance of storytelling and sharing our varied experiences.
“There are words a Navajo grandmother can say, that feel like a hug when you are in desperate need of one.”
“How does one move forward, away from the earth-shattering event of losing a sibling? One does not simply step away from the pain, instead you learn to migrate alongside it.”