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
the way back
flawed in its hastening
as you shake
off the rain
may 10, 2015
©2015 Lance Henson
it was in autumn that i….drawn like a wind
of dream…began a journey….a solitary voice
in search of a darkened refuge….another distance
©1987 lance henson
washing your hands
no thing more sacred
how we need you
where the dust rises while
dusk opens its gate
find the wings of their ancestors
listening to the light still
and hold them up
as a prayer
for their world…
from the edge