mother

your eyes filled with tears each day

you smoked their cigarettes

when you really wanted to pray

walk the earth each step sacred

your bones shared star dust 

with black elk and rolling thunder

the earth recognized you

even when you didn't

its creatures swooned to greet you

the winged ones the four-legged ones

the ones in the sea

you knew of sacred relations

and quiet beings let themselves be known

when you shook the sacred rattle

rainbows danced softly

that was your true voice

you lived in exile 

in these kali yuga times

and yet you rose up to do battle

mightily for what was right

your gifts were so many
now I know they were and are
wakan bestowed by the Great Spirit

—Lorena Wolfman