Long My mother Poems
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My mother said for maybe, could be the sixth
Time, or was that the coming up to a higher number like twelfth
Time, to behave as I should, not like a child spoilt
Of course, that was with absolutely no warmth
Only warmth there was from the fire that engulfed
Me, from the old rock fireplace when I occasionally traipsed
Around in front of the hearth with many of those excerpts
Running around in my brain, about her heart that was pierced
I never understood what momma said in my depth
Until I became a mom and said, amongst
So many things, just because I said so for the sixth
Time, mommas say so many words times eighth
‘Wana Hin Gle’ the Lakota call me,
‘Wana Hin Gle’ my given name
‘He Who Happens Now,’ the drumbeat has found me,
reaching into this moment beyond glory and fame
As ‘Wana Hin Gle,’ my spirit has wandered,
as ‘Wana Hin Gle,’ my ancestors call
The questions dissolve, as The Great Mystery beckons,
the campfire eternal, the chanting enthralls
“‘Wana Hin Gle,”’ my Mother calls proudly,
your horse is now waiting, your shield fixed with bone
“Off into the prairie you must ride in the twilight,
the People will dance until their son returns home
“’Wana Hin Gle,’ you must now happen quickly,
the buffalo ravaged, starvation cries loud
“Your eyes to look upon the great Wakan Tanka,
whose absence has shamed us, who once were so proud
“As the great Tasunka Witko who traveled before you,
you must call for your horse to come out of the lake
“Great Mother River and Great Mountain Father,
to your will they entrust what The People forsake
“Your spirit must suffer, the babies still cry,
the cold through the tent flaps, all future in blight
“The hawk comes to guide you, as you pass through the darkness,
the drums of your fathers beat into the night
“You will ride to the top of the ‘Pass Of The Bears,’
ask the Grizzly, our brother, where the demon still hides
“Where it lives, you must kill it, for this time and always,
before it steals our last dream, keeping spirits alive
“The White Horse will take you from the lake to the mountain,
and the stallion will sprout wings with its hooves fiery hot
“You will trample this demon and burn him before you,
the smoke will then signal of what he is not
“‘Wana Hin Gle,’” my son; the time is for going,
your journey awaits, past-futures on hold
“The Medicine Woman is locked deep inside you,
your People die waiting—the young and the old”
(Pine Ridge South Dakota: February, 2011)
From My Novel: “Searching For Crazy Horse”
I found it buried in Grandma’s drawer,
the blasted wooden spoon with the burn mark
and the hairline crack God knows what from.
She snatched it from my hand like it was alive.
“That thing’s seen more trouble than you,” she said,
and the air in the kitchen shifted,
as if the spoon remembered something
and was waiting to see if I did too.
It wasn’t for stirring beans.
It wasn’t for tasting stew.
that spoon was for pointing ... slow, deliberate
at any child that had forgotten their manners.
My father swore he could hear it hum
before it struck the table.
My mother said it twitched in the drawer
when someone lied in the next room.
By the time it came for my generation,
we didn’t need the smack,
just the lift of Grandma’s hand toward the drawer,
the shadow of the spoon rising like judgment.
And years later, when my own children tested me,
I reached for it not in a drawer, but in its own crock
felt its weight settle into my palm,
felt every ancestor nod in approval.
The spoon never touched them.
It didn’t have to.
Some objects carry their own history,
and this one still waits in the crock,
quiet as a predator stalking its prey.
I could not go outside my house today
For I had the sniffles, and I was upset
My snowman was out there ready to play.
How much more bad news could I get?
My mother said “Here comes your friend.”
I thought she meant my neighbor, Mr. Bend.
She meant my snowman who came to check on me.
He sat by the window and we stared out at his tree.
I was worried, he said. You are always out there.
You’d better go back out, I told him, because I care.
As he sat, water began pooling on the floor.
I sent him away with a smile, for him I do adore.
He tipped his hat and gave me a snowman’s wink.
You’re right, he said, or I will have to go sit in the sink.
The next day I was better, and ran outside to play.
Unfortunately warm weather had scared him away.
Invisible to others,
But visible to you,
Oh, Mother,
In the light but hidden from view,
Yet seen by you,
Oh, Mother,
I cried,
I don’t want the world to see me as I am,
I don’t want the world to see me in my messy puddle,
I don’t want the world to see this lesser part of me.
Oh, Mother, embrace me,
Oh, Mother, tell me again those words that guide me through a turbulent sea.
Oh, Mother, my heart bleeds, and my mind plummets into the darkest night.
There’s a deep silence.
My mother smiles and holds my hand,
As tears stream down my face.
August 18, 2026.
Time Passing
I can see the wrinkles in the mirror,
even without my glasses.
What does that mean?
They are deep and permanent.
Youth has fled my appearance.
Yet, it has not left my heart.
The fact, of reality...
can not change my soul.
The creases next to my eyes... are from laughing.
My mother told me not to do that,
it would change my face forever.
She was right, and she was wrong.
I put my specs back on,
having washed the sleep from my eyes.
I can see better,
I do not look away.
The lines of time, they are still there,
deeper even than before.
That is okay,
I find I do not care... to stare.
I smile and remember, what is was to laugh.
I long to do it still.
I want to embrace my last days,
with happy thoughts, of God, family, and friends.
I refuse the darkness of evil dismay,
and embrace the joy of knowing...
that this is not the end, but the beginning.
It starts with now and continues on,
to the place prepared.
I take one last long look into the smooth surface of the mirror.
It can not hold the image of my life in its reflection,
it can only keep the moments...
that I let it have.
I LOST
When my dad called me ugly,
stupid and worthless, as that
little girl, I lost!
When my mother didn't protect
me from the cruelty and abuse
at home, I lost!
When a bad man came into my
room exposing himself, as that
little girl, I lost!
When a boyfriend blackened my
eyes and fractured my cheekbone,
I lost!
When my precious dogs, Rocky
and Brownie died in my arms,
I lost!
When a car struck me and I
suffered life altering injuries,
I lost!
When I received the call saying,
“Your mother is dead,” I lost!
When I watched my loving and
honorable brother succumb
to cancer, I lost!
When my closest friend committed
suicide, I lost.
When I see the painful expression
in my son’s weary eyes, I’ve lost.
When I realize there isn’t anyone or
anything else to fight for, I say to you
one last time, I lost!
I remember my sweet mother
Crying as my brother went off to war
As the train pulled out of the station
She whispered, have mercy on him Lord
If memory serves best it's been 10 years past
If not less or more
Time means nothing when your just a kid
And there's no one there keeping score
Moms been crying since she heard the news
Guess she can't wait to have him home
I've been reading up on what brothers do
Since he left when I was young
Mom she had me dress up real nice
Wouldn't want him to think any less of me
Hope he has stories of his daily fights
And that he shares them all with me
I tell my mother I think I see the train
As tears well up in her eyes
I hold her hand as best I can
At 14, don't need no reason why
As the train pulls up in front of us
There's soldiers there to salute
Guess my brother is a hero
But that's something this kid already knew
The war that day replaced my brothers smiling face
With that of a Flag draped box
One of the soldiers said something to mother
As she whispered, Lord have mercy on us
I never did get to hear all the stories
Though I talk with him all the time
As I try and make it daily
To his grave up on the hillside
While my mother sits home and cries
Waking up from midnight dreams,
I feel tired and lonely amid shadows.
Often I am within only me around all these….
Needless to feel “special” in such an awful way!
I only feel tired, then really exhausted nowadays.
The face of my father reminds me just that,
the face of my mother too.
They bruised your body with scars
Continuous scars of sleepless nights...one followed another
Father and mother used to remind me to be silent
through those stormy nightmares.
I will wait till those nightmares clear for good,
leaving me waiting to hold your hand once more.
When those clouds will race with those migratory birds
to reach the city of ‘Alaka.’
Only it gets too late to reach there, and,
I truly feel tired,
Too tired these days!
Who knows where have gone the days of childhood,
when we too used to be children.
There was no worry or worry, he used to play in his mother's lap.
I used to pass the time in small mischiefs.
Neither felt hungry nor thirsty, used to play the whole day.
When I couldn't sleep, my mother used to sing lullabies.
She used to put me to sleep saying go to sleep my king son.
Childhood days were very strange, till the time we used to sleep.
There was no time to get up, nor any kind of restriction.
In this cycle of time, life spent in confusion.
The word responsibility is big, childhood was far away from it.
Who knows where have gone the days of childhood,
when we too used to be children.