The Native Lady 5 Short Verses Reflecting the Stages of
The Native Ladies Life "Prairie Woman" Few people know the reality of the Indian woman in the early days on the plains. "The Maiden" Quiet and lovely blossoms of the prairie "The Courtship Blanket" Wrapped in the invisibility of the courtship blanket... "The Passing of the Moons" The passing of the moons "Some people come into our lives and quickly go.
Some people move our souls to dance.
They awaken us to understanding with the passing whisper of their wisdom.
Some people make the sky more beautiful to gaze upon.
They stay in our lives for awhile, leave footprints on our hearts,
and we are never, ever the same..." WE WELCOMED YOU Earth Maiden
She sits shelling corn,gifts from
Mother Earth and Father Sun. Looking out over the village, she
watches the children playing. Maidens and the young Braves
still playing the games of their ancestors. Games that were once needed to
hone skills used later in life. She glances around the camp,
watching other women at their work, some weaving baskets and blankets
for storage and warmth later. Others working in hard earth
gardens trying to grow food and herbs. Sitting there she remembers the
stories of her great-grandmother Stories of how life in the
village used to be when the people still roamed the mountains and
valleys and forest as they wished. Days before they were forced off
their land and onto reservations. Times when they lived by their
own work and skills, wonderful times. Days when game was so plentiful
that each hunting party stayed nearby the village in case of
there were raids by nearby tribes Living was easier then, children
didn't die from hunger in winter. The elders lived with respect, as
their knowledge accorded them. Mother Earth provided for all
their needs, and Father Sun warmed them. The Four Winds protected, watched
over and guided them always. The deer, buffalo, and the
antelope gave them food, clothing, and shelter. All these things and much more
were provided by the Great Spirit. Porcupine quills, seashells, and
quartz were always provided, materials for decorations,
hunting, and war were given by Mother Earth. Life was hard in those days but,
oh so much more worth living. There were no boundaries to bind
and hold them, they were FREE. She sits shelling corn wishing
upon wishes that her people, still lived the Wonderful life of
her Great-Grandmother's Days.... by Eagle's Wing Freeman © 1996 CALLED HOME As the mist swirls around the trees Muffling sounds to those who won't hear The Ancestors call to one of their own Come Home The time has come for you to return Your visions and wisdom are needed here To strengthen our guidance and support of those who carry on our Truths Their Dreams and Visions are strong and yet unclear Your strength of Spirit will help get our message through St that they may know which Paths to take and What dangers may lie ahead They need us now, as always before, They KNOW we're here and believe in our teachings So, Rest awhile then join us
In celebrating our unity, and guiding those left behind to Continue Pam "Earth Woman" Thomas My Red Road By Marilyn DREAMWALKER Mejorado-Livingston Bear Clanmother Southern Band Tuscarora Raised in a world I couldn't understand, Return to Table of Contents
Email "EARTH WOMAN"
She was a child of nature, born to be the vessel through which the
People were perpetuated, loved, respected, protected.
She was, in her maidenhood, a treasure of her family and tribe.
In courtship, a sought-after prize to the young men.
In motherhood, she fulfilled the opposite role of her husband in his obligations of fertility.
Finally, in her mature years, she became the respected
repository of tribal wisdom and a carrier of legends, history and customs.
coaxed by the ways of the moon to womanhood...
to full lovliness, blooming resplendent.
Warm brown skin in buttersoft buckskin and
brilliant beads.
soft minor-keyed notes drifting on the evening breeze.
The woman soon to be promised
soon to be the carrier of new generations of children
of the People and of nature.
bestows the wisdom in the words...
gossamer threads
that gently tie century
to century
and weave the bright traditions
passed along
in loving reverence,
from old to young.
~~author unknown~~
Shall we put aside
the horrors of our past?
Witnessing greed
and death so vast.
You came to this land
to claim for your own
disregarding peace
and called this YOUR home.
Years of wars,
hunger and ills...
and still we stand strong
from mere strength of our wills.
For those who came
and forgot with time
is all of the shame
unraveled and blind.
To stand so proud
with blood on your hands
wont bring the Sacred
back to OUR lands.
The Ancients remind us
of who we have been
and what we have left
and not to carry your sin.
Our Spirits sing true,
this song of distress
we know who we are,
and where WE shall rest.
© 1996 Schar CBear
Herstory
Native woman born
to a Nation
without a country
birthed into denial
of yesterdays truths.
Native Indian woman
from a culture where
spoken stories reverend
mountains so Sacred,
Salmon and Deer
abundantly flourished.
Living with Ceremony
practiced Dances and prayers
offering gratitude
kept Spirit nourished.
American Native Indian woman
lives in a country
without a Nation.
A Nation without its lands...
unrecognized on paper
Treaties never offered.
Forced silent shame
ruled within the
white man’s voice
and commands
Moccasin dreams
race through torn and
renounced memories...
reclaiming truth
with her voice
Native American Woman
lives and proudly stands!
© 1996 Schar CBear
I Am
I am not
made for tailored clothes and
starched restraints.
I am made for flowing skirts and leather
boots and silk so soft it feels like
air against my skin.
I am made for riotous, kaleidoscopic
colors that swirl and flash around me.
I am made of Fire and Water, Earth and Sky.
I am made of gold and silver, and
sparkling gemstones fall from my mouth
when I speak.
I am made to dance, not plod; to sing,
not speak moderately.
I am made to nurture and to fill with
light and to be filled with light in
return.
I am Created; Creator.
I am Storm.
I am.
© 1996 Storm
In a beautiful land stolen by the whiteman.
Forced to honor customs that made no sense,
Yet to those around me, I was the one who was dense.
A soul racked with turmoil and confusion,
A spirit who could see past the illusion.
Feeling like a foreigner, out of place and time,
Floating, adrift on an ocean of slime.
Trying to find a rhyme or reason,
Not understanding anything but the seasons.
I knew my heart and memories were red,
I knew those I belonged to were dead.
I found a small remnant of my people,
We didn't need a church with a big steeple.
We rejoiced in our joyous reunion,
Happy we survivied the time of turmoil and confusion.
We walked in the beauty the Creator made,
We went on our visions the traditional way.
We fought demons in the real world and dreamscape,
Then the ancient ones gave us our fire and cape.
The Ancestors took me to many ancient places,
I gazed upon all those beautiful faces.
They showed me the past, present, and future,
Some was so painful all I could do was endure.
I cried for the ones taken so painfully,
As the spirits stood there before me.
I rejoiced and danced in a circle of dancing lights,
While my body slept through the night.
My soul belongs on two plains,
In this world of reality, I'm not even sane.
Part of me cries to go back to the past,
But this is a dance I must dance till the last.....
Dreamwalker
Used with permission of Dreamwalker.