We wrote numbers 38 degrees longitude, 95 degrees latitude pin point positions on earth. New generations Ojibwa, Cherokee, Oglala, Menominee still struggling to save lands, wetlands. Children meant to care for our mother. Under rocks, truths we’ve known for generations. …
Giin inde’niiwezh memwech nitamdewe’igan bangan dash zhooshkozi apane Niin minoshin dash nibaa maajiigi makadewizi abaagamide biiwaabikokaan nitammadoondiswan biinjina biiwaabikokaan dooskaabi inaabamdengway Giin bedowe nanda weminniin, noonaawaso Nii zaagiziin nimaamaay Momye Niingizhzo nimaamaay ininan anami’aa wiisagigonewe, minwamanji’o wayiiba waawindamaw giiwashkweyaabandam, bedose, …
Did the very air sparkle back then! My ancestors were thought to be Plains people wandering aimlessly across barren, grassy land on an ancient journey,| directed only by stars. They were earthen sailors sustained by prayer and pipe smoke. But …
What an awesome sight— Twelve eagles in the front room Messengers for God The window opens Unseen trails in talons The eagles take flight A humble honor This mysterious visit A gift from a dream. Anna Martineau Merritt, 35, is …
Beads of glass, beads of stone Beads on her dress, beads she’d owned Beads she gave, beads she shared So many articles the beads adorned A simple ring, a pair of moccasins, a full dress All of many or less, …
WHO ARE YOU TO JUDGE ME EVERYWHERE I GO EVERYTHING I DO I’M SICK AND TIRED OF PEOPLE TELLING ME WHAT TO DO AND WHY I DO THE THINGS I DO JUST BECAUSE, I CHOOSE TO FURTHER MY EDUCATION JUST …
I do not understand still, why I am here. My father, Thunder Eagle- a proud man-brought us, me and my young brother. I saw the sadness in my father’s eyes that he tried to hide with his long hair. Long …
I am the sinew that holds your moccasins together, and I walk along with you. I am the robe that keeps you warm during the long winters. I am the hide that your bull boat is made of. I am …
Her earliest memory— Looking out the kitchen window and watching her mom get her teeth kicked in by one of her many “boyfriends.” She was just five . . . She remembered feeling so small, so helpless. Her buried memory …
Pedaling circles like crazy, warm surreal summer afternoon. Singing childish, childhood songs to no one else but me. Middle of the road, Don’t touch the yellow line! Round and round relentlessly, stay between the two white lines! A rumbling roaring …
