niiyaw
(my body)
to the very blood & bone
we are connected,
two hands
in the same river,
feeling the flow
of fresh water,
the pulse
of the heartbeat
like a powwow drum
steady we row, we walk,
we stand on sacred shorelines,
the ones our grandparents
mourned on, the place
where stories
flew like gulls,
like salmon,
like great eagle
on the day of battle
to our cores we rattle,
turtle shell &
chattering teeth,
grinding our
medicine, holding
our tongues
& the hearts
of our women
so that nothing
of the earth
shall ever fall
like tears on trails again
this is not our end,
our defeat, our surrender,
this is our worship,
our war cry,
our purification
of the oil
they pumped into our souls
this is how we survive,
in thanking our waters,
Great Spirit, our breath –
this is how we
bless life
Note: Studying my Ojibwemowin & I knew I would write a poem about the body & water. Themes I keep pondering. Must be this arid desert. Also, the prompt words went well with my vision.
Thistle Thoughts 