Native American Poetry

Ancient Voices

Did you listen today? What did your hear?
The ancient ones call and we feel them around us, but we do not listen. We no longer hear the voices in the wind as the leaves and branches tell us stories. The moon brings us messages and we do not see them. We are to busy with the world created by man. Take your children back to the times when the voices were heard and the signs were given. Go back before the importance of Creation leaves us forever. The voices of the ancestors may have been silenced by the death call but they are only a whisper away. Their music may have faded from our ears but must we let the delicate sounds of our past go with them? Our children need the teachings that are leaving us forever. Sing the words in a lullaby, whisper to them so they hear, lead them and they will follow. Never let our traditions die. Respected and revered the old ones still walk with us. They hold our hand to help us see. They still lead us and we must follow. We need not let the dreams they had for the future depart this life. This is why they honored us with their wisdom. When they leave us one by one, they take the book with them, leaving a patchwork of dreams on the web of life. What we do with the patches will help us to grow in wisdom. The Earth Mother is bountiful enough for all her children. Working together we can bring back the unique and powerful voice of our past. Grasp the insights and perceptions in the wind. The future of our children depends on our actions today. Do not let the voices of the ancestors or the echoes of their songs fade away.

October 29, 2000 ~ Momfeather

Spirit Wind

Quivering delight overtakes me
With gay anticipation as
I watch the eagles soar.
Riding on the winds of time
It creates an amorous
Wooing within the spiritual
Realm. Joy comes so
Easily to my spiritual side,
I sit in awe and passionate
Delight as I experience
Daily, deeper understanding
Of my spiritual world.
How delightful the power
Of the eagle as it soars
Above me. Carrying my
spirit to the wind.

Momfeather

DAUGHTER OF THE WIND

WHY HAVE I ALWAYS BEEN A DAUGHTER
OF THE WIND? IT HAS SUCH STRENGTH,
IT IS TREACHEROUS AND HOLDS SUCH FURY.
YET IT HAS THE MOST GENTLE, TENDER TOUCH.
WHEN I WATCH THE WIND. HEAR THE WIND OR
FEEL ITS SOFT AND GENTLE CARESS, I
SUDDENLY BECOME LOST IN THOUGHT AND WILD
WANDERINGS. DEAR WIND WHERE ARE YOU GOING?
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TODAY? WHAT ARE
YOU GOING TO DO TOMORROW? YOU ALWAYS SEEM
TO CARRY ME TO ANOTHER PLAIN. A PLACE WHERE
DREAMERS DWELL. SOMEWHERE YOUR SECRETS ARE
NEVER TOLD. AS THE DAUGHTER OF THE WIND,
I WILL NEVER GROW OLD.

Momfeather

~ CRY? ~

Why should I cry for the white man?
Did he cry when he killed our sons
And daughters, wives, and mothers?
Did he cry when he shot our fathers,
And grandfathers, our holy men?

Did he cry when he burned our homes,
Stole our praying grounds, desecrated
Our burial grounds?
Did he cry when he walked among our dead?

NO!

He was hailed as a hero, decorated
With stripes and medals. Ceremonies were
Held in his honor. He was promoted
For a job well done For slaughtering
Innocent lives. People he knew nothing about.

CRY?

WHY SHOULD I CRY for the white?
Because he took all that was mine?
My land, home, family, Life?
My dignity, pride, and honor? He killed
My spirit, and many times over damned
My soul into a hell he did not wish to see.

NO!

I WILL NOT cry for the white man!
Because of him, I almost became like him!
Barbaric, savage, hateful, blood seeking.
His blood. And the blood of everyone
That looked like him, even if
They were not a threat to me.

CRY?

YES, I cry.
I cry for the many generations that may
Never know the unity the Great Spirit
Intended for all He created.
To be one tribe, one nation, one world.
ONE with Him.

Katalin Nemeth