a blue line through this cold dawn Motse eoeve neh visto Winter Winter the ones who do not shudder at themselves singing here.... Sweet Medicine watching Tsistsisas prophet © 2021 Lance Henson
Spider crawling out of its skin Thousand eyed staring at its webs aflame On a field of torn symmetries and sharded wind This is the promise kept for us Its melted light Its sieve of hope Its trickle of bones Its inauguration of words again.... © 2021 Lance Henson (poem-image)
© 2021 Lance Henson (poem-image)
Words float by
Words without wings
Dreams on fire at the edge
of a winter camp
In a soup of blood and ash….
Eh maiyun ahuta
You will see only one of you
Singing in a weeping rain….
Dog soldier song
From the stronghold
©2021 Lance Henson
A beaver slaps the water of a still creek
The unmarked graves where you
have lain for a hundred years
Awakening on the frozen back of a sleeping
Far from where
the demons reside
As the temperature drops to its knees
We watch from our hidden balcony
Inside a sheet of rain….
Men folding themselves into paper planes
That cannot fly….
From the stronghold
December 8 20.
Now you have awakened
In another place
What will you sing in your sweet voice
The Cheyenne horses you are following
Taking you home….
Your form made of eternity and silent rain…
We carry you with us
You are a part
Of our belongings….
For my brother
John William West
Kit Fox Clan
Cheyenne Nation of Oklahoma
Scenting the small deepening in the leaves
Arrived from the lighted rivers
Where at their banks winter prepares its messengers….
This is the day of absences
The day of singing….
Where the dead and the living
Are inside us….
Tsistsistas name for winter hawk
From the photo of my sister barbara bartlett
Who ainoh visited for two days in queens ny.
In here the wind pushes against its memory
The dark trees listening
Where a psalm of witness hides….
Awakening in early morning
Something broken in the river
Where a lone bird
sound of an open hand moving across a
dusty brown table…
lonely words seeking shelter
While all the shelters are burning….
from the stronghold
It rains….inside the air that is folded toward it….it sounds its knowing making the streets glisten and the fields open their coats
and the birds listening for winter fly through it….
It rains deepening the leaves of autumn into
Their mirroring soft singing….
And what has fallen in the rain quiets the fields
Lowering its prayer
Into the earth….
In this dreamless autumn
dark birds unknown to me form
Their ancient pattern toward some summer place
Found this small path and a prayer
Floating in a rain pool
Where the full moon will find it
And they will listen together
To the sorrow….
Psalm for us
On the Lesina plains
October 1 20