Still Standing

We have 
Seen it all
& we 
are still standing
We have been
Bombed with 
Water canons
& we are still

The glare
Of ignorance
Shines brightly
In the night
Their curse
To the darkness
Thuggi in uniform
As we flye
With the weight
Of   Ravens

Dreaming of the days
When smoke and fire 
Are the signs
Of prayer
Not aggression
When our songs reach
Our peoples where’re 
They  may  be…
Dancing the  Haka
Dancing the  stories
Of our  elders
Dancing the days
Of our origin


We do not pray
For riches
& excess
We pray for life!...
We pray for water!...
Mni Wiconi!...
For clean water
For our  children
For we whom have 
Become our  ancestors
The paths they 
taught us to follow
It isn’t easy!...
It isn’t 
what’s the fashion!...
There is no  
Herd mentality!...
We free THINK!...
o^-gu`-e_ _ni-ka-shi-ga
In my peoples’ speech
That means….
awake…& aware..

Eighty seven grave sites
The arrogant walking
On Turtle Island...graves
Of our peoples
Razor wire by the water’s edge
& you 
still wish us dead
& you still think
  we should be
Part of your…
Colourful past…

We are the roots
Of this red
We do not fall
We do not fail
A day of reckoning
& you are deemed
Unfit!...for service
To the greater good
Of all!...
I am of 
& as one of  the people
I  too am still

The day
Shines upon us
As we leave you
In the ashes 
You have made
Of yourselves

When our peoples dance
It  is for the  strength
Of who WE ARE…
Your herd mentality
Of modern times
We wake 
to the goodness
Still present
Within our mother 
& so 
still present 
within us

We will keep
Smoke and flame
Within every steppe
As we walk
Hand in hand 
With our relations
Upon the 
Water is life
Mni_ Wiconi

                           ~ SoldierBlue      

On The Medicine Trail
A repost in memory of two honored Native American Church members who took the journey in 2016.  Their songs and their wisdom cannot be replaced.  Honoring Beatrice Weasel Bear and her son, Aloysius Weasel Bear.

Could you come?
Could you share?
Third decant Taurus’s are practical like that.
The text message came
‘Can you still come and share?’
We talked last month and times were vague.
The next day’s call
“Leaving Chadron, see you tonight!”
And thus, my personal chaos begins.
The car’s not here.
Suddenly it needs some tending.
It takes more than a while to get organized.
Will you make it?
Yes I will.
People never see my ADHD in this bad a state.
I have a packing list.
The car’s repair makes life much better.
I am not the only one who did not think I’d finally leave!
All gassed up.
“Follow me!”
A stop for food then Subaru and truck are on our way.
The drive’s a bore.
What can I say?
Colorado, Oklahoma, Amarillo’s our goal for the day.
The room was welcome.
Was on the way.
Exhausted the five of us piled in and sleep.
Breakfast at Walmart,
A MacDonald’s is there.
A quick turn for food for the cooler as well.
Laredo is next.
It’s much hotter than I planned.
Time to improvise -- what was I thinking when I packed?
Windbreaker as top.
Good-bye heavy shirt.
Will have to get some lighter things along the way.
“Follow that bumper.”
Becomes the mantra,
To Rio Grande City and beyond.
“Has he got some?”
“Not enough.”
We’re here, we’re there, we’re everywhere.
Natives are here,
From all over the country.
No snakes, spiders or scorpions this time of year.
There was a girl
So long ago
Who got lost among the cactus and trees.
She was thirsty
She was hungry
She prayed she might live.
In a haze
Lying on the ground
A blue button spoke to her.
I am the food.
I am the drink.
I am Creator’s gift of life.
And so it is fitting,
No doubt it is.
That Saturday afternoon we are in a field.
They speak with reverence.
“These are the gardens.” they say.
Little blue babies all over, under the trees.
Prayers are offered.
Tobacco is put down.
Then people are off to harvest what can be found.
A meeting tonight.
We decide to stay.
I’ll sleep in the car and watch the stars.
The full moon is gorgeous.
An incredible sight.
A prayerful peacefulness inhabits the clearing this night.
The stars above.
The lit tipi ahead.
A reclined front seat makes a wonderful bed.
I pray for a friend.
I sleep so I can drive.
Time marked by the ancient rhythm of the water calls.
Ceremony is over.
No time to stay.
Plates loaded into the car and we are on our way.
It’s funny
When the job is done
It’s the little things that come into focus.
Two stops for gas
To the truck’s one
Makes the scene almost more like a junk food run.
With sport drinks
And pop bottles
We blazed the trail.
With chips
And candy bars
What a spectator sport for a health foodie.
A new route’s decided,
We’ll go back through Childress.
This ‘short cut’ seems longer and goes on forever.
At Childress we stop
To rest and regroup.
This route we will pass on the next time we come through.
The long haul’s decided.
We’ll do it in a day.
To northern Colorado we will aim hooray.
The cell phones are babbling.
A stop in Brighton is made.
I’ll finish at my house but they will press on.
Too many meetings
That cannot be postponed,
Means a press for South Dakota for the mighty truck.
So four leave my house
For the familiar drive,
That ends with very tired people asleep in one house.
And so, on the trail
Of the medicine we went,
Bringing spiritual food for the people and healing from want.
Would I go again?
I’d go in a minute!
All I would need would be the cash and the invite.
                                    ~ Maureen Brucker