Poetry Page

From: "Tatonka Winyan" <tatonkawinyan@hotmail.com>
MIGHTY BUFFALO

Show me the wisdom of you ways......
Spirit of the buffalo inspire me to lead with gentle
care a warm heart and bountiful unselfish gifts. From
your life,the lives of many others will spring;and from
your spirit,the lessons of patience,purity and sharing
are taught,and the true understanding of the Life cycle
are gained.
Buffalo Woman
*******************************
Work hard,keep the ceremonies,
live peaceably,and unite your
hearts. {Hopi)
-------------------------------
When you lose the rhythm of the
drumbeat of the Creator,you are
lost from the peace and rhythm
of life. (Cheyenne)
*******************************
Who Cries for the Earth?

Who cries for the destruction,
    born of greed ...
    the sensual slopes of the Mother,
    dug, gouged, slashed and pitted
    by bloodless blades of
    white man's machines?

Who cries for the rampant burning and leveling
    of pristine forests,
    both old and tropical,
    homes to who knows how many
    lifeforms -- whose gifts we've
    never accepted -- whose songs
    we've never heard -- whose colors   
    we won't see?

Who cries for the wild places, destroyed
rather than "tamed"?

Who cries for the babes, dying stillborn or
in infancy, old before they are young?

Who cries for the hearts and minds of my
brothers and sisters, who deafen their ears
        and turn aside, drunken with only the desire for
        M*O*R*E !

Are we all not One?  Do we not all breathe same air?
    Are we not each a strand in the precious blanket
    of life, now frayed by rapacious plundering
    of our Mother?

Who listens?  Who dares to hope?  Who cares?

© Brings Together Woman/Avalon Bruce, 1996

Shadows of Chaco Canyon

When I look at pictures of long-silent ruins...
skeletons of where we used to live,
I see bronze children run and laugh and play
and grow into warrior-men and wise-women.

I hear the drumbeats echo off the walls
of mute dwellings in Chaco Canyon.

You hear the wind, whispering through empty doorways.

I hear the songs and chants and
snake-sound rattle of Kachina dancers.

You see a bleak, barren, abandoned landscape.

I see shadows of smiling faces.

I catch a glimpse of the old ones, from a corner
of my eyes, as they slip around in the shadows.

They whisper to me in dreamtime.
They call to my heart in the desert sun.
Their voices talk to me on the wind.

The shadows of Chaco Canyon are alive and well.

©Brings Together Woman/Avalon Bruce, 1996

The Old Ways

There was balance in our old ways.

The Earth gave to us...
and took from us.

But, there was harmony.
We danced to they rhythm of the seasons.

We understood the circle of life.
Birth and death and renewal.

We knew what was "important":

The wisdom of our old ones ...
The future of the people in our young ones.

Their spirits wait for you
to come dance togehter --
in balance -- in harmony.

This is the only way.

©Brings Together Woman/Avalon Bruce -- 1996

Remembrances

In this lifetime, I only string beads, dance
and work with leather.

However, my hands still hold the memories
of the feel of cool, damp clay.

I look at Mimbres pottery
and it seems vaguely familiar.

The stark, monochromatic designs nourish my spirit,
as old hymns feed a Christian soul.

Somewhere in my being,
there are memories of sitting,
cross-legged on the ground, in the sun,
slowly fashioning the pottery of the ancients.

The soft, feminine shape and form
of a hundred pots have been guided
by memories still strong in these hands.

A "knowingness" for geometry and balance
is recalled by these eyes.

©Brings Together Woman/Avalon Bruce, 1996

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