Who could’ve guessed that there would be so much Native activism going on this year, I mean Idle No More, Chief Wahoo rallies, XL Protests, Save Oak Flats Campaign, Indigenous rights near the Mexico/Us Border and Indigenous riots in central America! I had only thought these things took place in the 70s and early 90s. Wow! Its a great time to be Native American.
The flesh and the blood of a forgotten being
It still drips from dew-mist of an oak tree and the blades of green grasses
It pools within an impression on the earth
The impression of a fallen body
Looking closely you can make out the hands, the feet,
even where legs had kicked up dust,
wildly whirling a deep pattern in the dirt
You know that someone had laid here,
someone had to have knelt here
Possibly, someone had died here
Leaving their life here as well
Leaving from this place.
Okay so I have been doing research on the Round Valley murder of a native girl from Covelo, Ca. I began to notice that a story needed to be told about this, that there is an aspect of native life being portrayed in this case on three levels. The women murdered, the two brothers. All are in way symbols of three kinds of people and pains that are prevalent in Indian country. The guilt of Betrayal, The anger and disillusion, and the one whom is wronged and whom cannot speak for themselves. Im still doing research but my time is being so limited to trips back and fourth from probation and my volunteering that I have barely anytime to research let alone write! I hate doing my probation but it has to get done, 180 day one day down so that yould be 178 including today.
The dream of not dreaming. The place within your minds eye, where you are completely alone and unaware of pain, faults.
The dream we all seek to live in. That could inspire us all to take it on an try to never surrender to it, wholly. May it be as real as a nights dream. A whisper. A ring of smoke. Enveloped by darkness. Only in our minds.
We would always seem to catch ourselves at night, awake and my bed next to the window, I could here the chirping of crickets and feel the cold wind even when it ran through the trees.
Like a memory of my child hood I have always held the emotions from those memories within my heart. There where times of complete happiness and some of the times I would feel total fear. At times I was put I situations where I had to fear for my life.
At times my dreams would seem to terrorize me. I had felt that my body could turn against me at any moment. Waking to the sounds of what I thought where other person standing over my lifeless body. Asleep my mind in a complete haze.
As a naïve child I always believed that my life would be spent completely alone. That my body was all that I had to own, and that it would fail me only at its end. In old age.
There was something always waiting inside. waiting to become freed. At nights is when it screamed and pecked the loudest. Every single night I would remain on edge clenching to my tiredness and always in fear that some quiet moment something would appear and things would begin to move.
I am The Discarded Dirt From One Lonely Long Walk
I am Clinging to The Moistened Flesh That is Your Sole
A Tributary to The River Swaying In and Out
And All Around Your Body
A Memory and The Sting of An Emotion As You Lay
I am The “IT”
The Object That You Cannot Seem to Shake From Your Path
I am The “THE”
Beginning of Your Every Word
Each and Every Essence of Your Being,
I Wondered Where I would Go
after everything was finished with,
The Place and The Peoples Faces,
Oh All of The Ashes and So
The Horn had Broken Through the
Earth and It Now Scraped and
Tears at the Clouds Over Our
something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
and wrote the first faint line,
faint without substance, pure
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
From “Poetry”, Memorial de Isla Negra (1964).
Trans. Alastair Reid
Hope so too! Will keep my eye open for your Tumbls!
Why My bones quiver so much,
chemicals in the body keep
You sit on a warm lap,
But everything grows,
Toward the sky
Just like the people
Cannot think to stop,
Except that the chemicals,
Make everyone believe
Rise and Join the crowed
Leeching Up From the Ground Into Our Bodies,
It is the Noise We Have Heard Time and Time Again,
Some Lecture Which We Have All Grown Tired of,
The Meaning was Lost,
Our Cause Lays Just at Surface Level,
Even as The Warm Winds Blow in From All Directions,
The Ripples Glide Over One Another Like Oils,
Are Never Really Eternal,
Floating in a Mass of Silence,
Lost in a Ring of Echoing Dark,
Particles Latching On,
Cannot take the pain of opening your eyes,
All around me. Do I realize what is happpening? People standing up. Perhaps it may be the only time that I can make that statement ; PEOPLE ARE STANDING UP. In the streets, on reservations across three continents. What I can presume as my people, because like them I have made struggles, four generations of my family was birthed from the womb of chaos and degrating stuggles. My people today are throwing down the cold silence, the bribed exsistance of being a native in 2012, and they are standing up for the next four generations to come. As I sit and watch what is happening threw videos and even what is happening here in my home state of Arizona, I am brought to tears. I know that something is being cultivated. Something is trying to get its way out,and make itself known. We all as one unified movent get to become the recievers of that voice!
To those that make a choice to stan. I have much respect and gratification. “For bringing the struggle home”. I will be sending my morning prayers to Chief Theresa Spence. Who is living in two worlds right now.