Shards of burnt spirit light all around….
Pieces of grey fur caught on the stacked wood
Old ones have passed here….
‘It is raining hard’
‘It is a strong wind’
Sweat lodge song
For peter and Lynn.
October 30, 18
My grandmother whispered to me in a dream….
Beware the white cities…the ones filled with hatred and fear
The ones where the ones who can see are
Imprisoned by the blind….
The ones who live from the dead meat of others…
Devouring their eyes that are staring at them….
The ones who have arrived from the putrid underbelly
Of human waste….
Formed from the shit of their ancestral darkness…
Carrying the heads of their dead gods
As tokens of their devotion…
Eating the white plate of their deities
Forced upon her as a child..
She looked at me whispering
The white cities.
From a twilight dream
of open eyes in a dark room
Hope an emaciated silhouette standing in a burning forest….
Our seized breath….
Guardians of an emptiness we cannot remember….
We cannot forget….
From the stronghold
The river sings….as always
As all rivers….
The ones who nurture it…
It remembers you
In its flowing canticles of joy
It carries the grief of all who suffer for it
You who have bathed in it
Anointed now by its one prayer for you….
It flows for the ones who have no voice….
Their silence eternal…
Healing the broken shadows of man….
For the water protectors of standing rock
25 November 16
The first few flakes cascading
As small messages over the garden…
Having shapeshifted out of an Italian sky
From a swirling wind of tumultuous joy
The acidity of America still strong I’m my senses….
Now in this quiet
Transformations of sorrow and frozen rain
Passing through the window glass
To sit with me….
Shivadom maheo neh nameho….
On the frozen plains
28 November 2015
Gabors smoking room
“Creator pity my beloved”
Under a canopy in a fiery rain….horseman
Of the drought from which they have arrived….
Humans on the run….
In the gathering vagueries
Of the many
Posted on the voting boards..
15 March 2016
Veho, tsistsistas for white man
Upon the tornadic plains of washita
A crow sits in morning light
Where she sleeps
When medicine sits down
In the wide hand of remembrance…
Where even wind and ice
Remember sand creek
In wintered memory
Grey army blankets
Captured army saddles
Medicine songs continue…
In the confusion of drones and secret prisons
The long dream that died before it was born
The sky goes on eating the oceans
Men continue eating themselves….
Unrelenting human shame
All that remains
On the glass road the gods used
Ghetto in foggia Italy
When medicine sits down..maheyuno
The tsistsistas name of Zoe henson
Her birthday on the anniversary of wounded knee
© 2015 Lance Henson