The call
of the wide-open prairie
Where nothing moves
but the wind
A man can be truly
alone here
To chase
what forever begins
One feather
to bless my transcendence
My horse painted proudly
I ride
In search of the great
Wakan Tanka
Whose trail leads me past
— the divide
(Songs Of The Lakota: August, 2026)
Begging
for what their past endowed
the Sioux
displaced once more
Imbued
by Wakan Tanka
their legacy
unmoored
They fought
the armed invader
winning battles
losing homes
Giving up
the greatest way
of life
— we’ve ever known
(‘Searching For Crazy Horse’: January, 2011)
Navajo celebration
death is life
wakan tanka in the sky
where earth people become holy people
the soul is now free from suffering
My heart stays in Wyoming
but Montana calls my name
My spurs and bits ‘a jingling’
as my soul goes north again
Cody up through Beartooth Pass
Cooke City just below
The Great Divide off to my left
the glaciers ringed with snow
I stop to mourn the western tribes
as dark clouds form above
The war chant of Tasunka-Witko
crying out with love
My spirit loose to roam the land
the great Oglala’s words I hear
Two kindred souls in one last dance
—as Wakan Tanka draws us near
(From ‘Searching For Crazy Horse’: February, 2017)
I’m going to watch you die…
but before I do
I will foretell your story
The story of the White Bird
The Great Mystery
and the Silver Seed
The White Bird carries
in its talons
the Silver Seed of all mankind
A seed that will allow you
to move past what you have been afraid
of for so long
When the White Bird
passes overhead
it will drop the Silver Seed
You must be dead
before the seed
touches the ground
Then, the White bird
will turn into
the legendary Hawk of Thunder
And carry you off
into the land
of the great Wakan Tanka
The decision to leave
being yours
and yours alone
Passing beyond
what time has frozen
—passing beyond what then has been
(Pine Ridge South Dakota: August, 2011)
My heart stays in Wyoming,
as Montana calls my name
My spurs and bits ‘a jingling’
my soul goes north again
Cody up through Beartooth Pass,
Cooke City just below
The Great Divide off to my left,
the glaciers ringed with snow
I stop to mourn the western tribes,
as dark clouds form above
The war call of Tasunka-Witko,
crying out with love
My spirit loose to roam the land,
the great Oglala’s words I hear
Two kindred souls in one last dance
—as Wakan Tanka draws us near
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)
Young Hania carries her tiny baby.
Her Nation was forced to relocate.
They had to disassemble their warm Wigwams
and walk away from their Sacred Grounds.
Hundreds of miles, she walks,
holding in her arms, baby called Achachak
for many days. At nights she sleeps on the ground
close to the fire, covered with skins.
Days grow cold, weather is freezing.
Cold and hungry is her son.
Then swift as wolf comes the sickness
and takes the son from her hands.
Should she burry her son among coyotes?
Where should she burry her son,
far away from her Nation’s Sacred Grounds?
She asks Wakan Tanka for help.
Their misery is forceful resettlement.
She asks Elu Wilussit
to save her Nation from madness.
Where should she dig the ground to burry her son?
Her Nation lost its land.
She lost her baby.
Her warrior husband was killed in the fight.
Her despair grows wild.
My heart stays in Wyoming,
as Montana calls my name
My spurs and bits ‘a jingling’
my soul goes north again
Cody up through Beartooth Pass,
Cooke City just below
The Great Divide off to my left,
the glaciers ringed with snow
I stop to mourn the western tribes,
as dark clouds form above
The war cry of Tasunka-Witko,
crying out with love
My spirit loose to roam the land,
the great Oglala’s words I hear
Two kindred souls in one last dance,
—as Wakan Tanka draws us near
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)
The Respect You Deserve
Standing Rock Reservation
Proud Warrior Nation!
In the spirit of Crazy Horse
Against a militant force.
You shine for all the world to see,
Bringing pride to your ancestry.
And in the name of all that's just,
The sacred you reconstruct,
Water is life you teach...
Protect it you beseech.
You sacrifice your very lives...
So the next generation survives
And how are you paid for this service,
From the politicians you make nervous?
Beaten and upon your arms stamped,
Dog kennels in concentration camps.
And still yet, you continue to pray;
Even for those that treated you this way.
Standing Rock where peoples rise ,
Unite together as environmental allies
We hear your voice loud and clear,
Echo cross the waters and biosphere.
We hold you up to Wakan Tanka ....
Wopila....Mitakuye Oyasin
The days moved slowly, but did pass.
He had spent the last three dreaming
of his mentor Wakan Tanka.
Calling him from Han in darkness,
waiting for his sign of answer.
It had come in bits and pieces
of Ojibwa legend mainly.
Thirty days purification
Of mind, body, spiritual.
Bathed in ginger, pomegranate.
In the round house incense offered,
Calls shadow land of Lakota.
Nagila, Nagila come be my bride.
The hawk and fox are beside me.
I have fasted forty summers,
visited the spirit of death.
Niya, the spirit of life’s blood
has lifted me up to the stars.
She has cleansed with healing waters.
Now let me take the talisman.
Now let me repeat the promise.
Now let me take my rightful place
among my people as Shaman.
Apr 16 2011 CGH the Ojibwa of the
north western plains
Wakan Tanka- creator of the Sioux
Han-place of great emptiness, darkness
Nagila-shadow land
Niya-breath of life
ginger and pomegranate-not factual
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