1. This is the homesite of what would hopefully be my land, turned in my tribal lease application a week ago!! 
#fingerscrossed (at Devils Canyon, San Carlos, Arizona)

    This is the homesite of what would hopefully be my land, turned in my tribal lease application a week ago!!
    #fingerscrossed (at Devils Canyon, San Carlos, Arizona)

  2. 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.

  3. 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.

  4. 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.

  5. Reblogged from: persephonierose
  6. I Wondered Where I would Go

    after everything was finished with,

    The Place and The Peoples Faces,

    Oh All of The Ashes and So 

    Much gray.

    The Horn had Broken Through the

    Earth and It Now Scraped and

    Tears at the Clouds Over Our 

    Nation.

  7. something started in my soul,

    fever or forgotten wings,

    and I made my own way,

    deciphering

    that fire

    and wrote the first faint line,

    faint without substance, pure

    nonsense,

    pure wisdom,

    of someone who knows nothing,

    and suddenly I saw

    the heavens

    unfastened

    and open.

    “”

    From “Poetry”, Memorial de Isla Negra (1964).

    Trans. Alastair Reid

  8. 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,

    Growing Stagnant,

    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,

  9.  

    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.

  10.  
She understood what fragile was.

A silken strand of hair.

It was the rythym of the wind.

The beauty of what life can bring.

She glanced towards the setting sun—
and tears from her eye, brought the azure of the night.

She cradled her arms in her lap—
and she wept, giving her warmnth to the wild ether.
 
     

    She understood what fragile was.

    A silken strand of hair.

    It was the rythym of the wind.

    The beauty of what life can bring.

    She glanced towards the setting sun—

    and tears from her eye, brought the azure of the night.

    She cradled her arms in her lap—

    and she wept, giving her warmnth to the wild ether.

     
  11. The Nature Of Nature.

    That Burns Insde and Out.

    A Scar Of Sand, Pine Needle, And sinewy vien.

    You know that they all thirst for it sooner or

    later—the blood.

Jay Steele

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