RESIST  

waves  
reverberating 
rippling  
slicing sharply 
cutting to the quick 
 
disbelief 
wrapped in  
devastating numbness 
 
filaments 
slashed 
grotesque knots 
 
woven 
strands of color 
intermingling 
images in the  
tapestry 
oppressed 
compromised 
 
threads  
torn  
ensnared 
fences  
of hate 
 
sickle 
black snake 
crawl together 
constricting 
subverting 
the blood 
of the mother 
 
elitism 
alternative facts 
coagulate 
orangey  
mass 
 
pass up 
the  
kool-aid 
 
stand up 
remember 
the old ones 
are talking 
remember 
 
stand up 
braid up 
resilient 
strong 
 
we walk 
we speak 
we dance 
we sing 
we  
rise 

                    ~ Orannhawk 



Thunderbird - The Journey

Thunderbird, Thunderbird
tell us what you've heard.
Can it be described in words?

Thunderbird, Thunderbird
flying with the wind.
What kind of messages
are you trying to send?

Thunderbird, Thunderbird
Soaring through the clouds.
Can you tell us all
what to do now?

Thunderbird, Thunderbird
When will you speak?
Bringing the answers
that we all seek.

Thunderbird, Thunderbird
Speak to our hearts,
show us where to start.

Thunderbird, Thunderbird
We're finally listening now.
Thank you for our journeys,
that brought us to
this moment, now.

~ Edith Brakke


Dog- Man’s Best and Loyal Friend

What can we say about dog?
Man's best friend
loyal, faithful, true
to the very end.

Study your dog
and you will see
he or she could be
just like you or me.

Our dogs match
our personalities.
Your dog might be
a Pekingese.

Dog shows us
adoration,
your dog might be
a Dalmatian.

Take the time and
roll around on the ground,
your dog might be 
a Basset Hound.

Go outside and
hop like a frog, 
your dog might be
a Bulldog.

Go have oodles 
and oodles of fun,
your dog might be
a Poodle.

Go and find a
furry little bow-wow,
your dog might be 
a Chow.

Find a dog
that will make
you jolly,
your dog might be
a Collie.

Who would have thought
that dog would be such a Godsend.
Your dog might be 
a Dachshund.

So, the next time
you're feeling really down,
play with your dog
and your frown
will be turned
upside down.


 ~ Edith Brakke
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The Penance of Genocide
for Gil and all the Ancestors

 
There is no sorrow like unto my sorrow,
swathed in leather,
seasoned with beads,
I need 
to know
I do not come to Stomp alone.
I hear other shells besides my own
as the Spirits join
bind their songs into one mind
stir sacred fire and remind
that the revolt of the heart begins with a portrait,
lines inked in the parchment of maps
the promise of gold and a succulent dowry
weighed and metered in treaties and flour,
spun from the blood of Warriors and Mothers
and Brothers,
spattered,
patterned
against rocks and boulders
mortar
for bricks that build nations.
 
                                 ~ Dawn Karima



The Roots of Trees
 
I went into the woods
to hear something
to see something
of him in me
to remember something
waiting to be remembered
in the forest of memory
 
The old ones
waiting to be
discovered again by me
I walked deep
into the thick of it
into the thick of trees
 
The thick of life
the thick of me
the heart of it all
So I can see
the old forest
for the trees
 
They welcomed me
and invited me
to lean on them
their strength
and comfort
absorbed my pain
while my salty tears
forever stained
their fragrant beds
of evergreen
 
I surrendered
in the roots of trees
at the feet
of the Ancients
surrounded by white and yellow birch
they illuminated
cleansing, alabaster and golden light
raising my spirits
to their height
 
I saw a movement
from the corner
of my eye
further back
in the wood

In seconds I saw him
the Tree Topper
the High Climber
with ax and saw
and maneuvered ropes
at the top of the highest
pine in the wood
 
I watched him work
meticulously
every move
possibly his last
as that great giant pine
swayed
in bitter
icy winds
 
He gave me a glance
and caught my eye
and we both
looked long and hard
so as to never forget
why he made
the journey back
for just
a brief time
 
A brilliant smile
flashed across his strong, handsome face
dressed in wool
from head to toe
and long winter boots
to his knees
my grandfather
young and brave
raised a gloved hand
and waved
 
I stood up
and walked
to the center of the grove
where he was
high in the pine
 
I lifted my hand
and waved back
the moment
being frozen
in time
a picture
from an antiquated
winter wonderland
that I longed
to go back to
again

I watched
as he nodded his head
and tipped his wool cap
he dissipated gradually
before my eyes

My grandfather
that I didn't know
in this lifetime
his blood
running through me
bonding to my own
 
A familiar
breeze brushed
my face and hair
whispers of stories
long ago
I knew
I wanted to go
back to where
he had to go
 
But as the birches
called me again
to the roots
that comforted me
I knew why
I had gone into
the forest of memory

I discovered
something of him
and something of him
in me
to pass down
to the generations
from the forest
and the roots
of trees


~  Lisa Wilson