So I've been going through a lot, the last 43 years or so, since my incarnation. I move around a lot. I feel many things. I talk to the spirits and hear the songs of the world in the wind and water and human hum of freeway and grocery store & internet buzz. I was a poet when I was young, and when I was nineteen and a baby left my lifeline, words stopped doing justice to the heartbreak, and reaching forward into the dark bright infinity of the future with hands and crayons became the thing that made the most sense. I went and found my mom dead in her bed a fews years ago, and carried her spirit outside and released it to the sky. She had told me that "we are forest Indians. Before the Trail of Tears, we hunted game and sang songs to Creator in the forests of the Southern Mountains" of Turtle Island. I look white, blues eyes, blond hair, vaguely ethnic features, but, my mom? You could see she was Indian- off-the-bat. White people in this country, we...
Comments
Post a Comment