The sound of a
Huey
the tick of
a clock
Both signal
a warning
what is and
what’s not
The flight from
DaNang
that hour till
dawn
Your life in
the balance
to die or
hang on
And leave for
the bush
face painted
and dark
Second hand
motion
that tells you
to start
As medics
unload
both the wounded
and dead
Rotors
keep spinning
these moments
— of dread
(Dreamsleep: June, 2026)
Shadows Forbode
Dark forces
conscript
the last moonbeam
As day turns
to night
in the sky
And silence
takes over
the valley
That harbor’s
a final
goodbye
Where light
used to play
in the meadow
Shadows
forbode
laying claim
To what
used to live
in your memory
That dies
in this darkened
— refrain
United Natives of America 7th generation uprisings.
March 24, 2018
A Lakota Mothers Prayer
(From: Searching For Crazy Horse)
________________________
‘Wana Hin Gle’ the Lakota call me,
‘Wana Hin Gle’ my given name
‘He Who Happens Now,’ the drum beat has found me,
reaching into this moment beyond glory and fame
As ‘Wana Hin Gle,’ my spirit has wandered,
as ‘Wana Hin Gle,’ my ancestors call
The questions dissolve, as The Great Mystery beckons,
the campfire eternal, the chanting enthralls
“Wana Hin Gle,” my Mother calls proudly,
“your horse is now ready, your shield fixed with bone
Off into the prairie you must ride in the twilight,
the People will dance until their son returns home
Wana Hin Gle, you must now happen quickly,
the buffalo are all captive, starvation allowed
Your eyes look upon the great Wakan Tanka,
whose absence has shamed us, who once were so proud
As the great Tasunka Witko who traveled before you,
you must wait for your horse to come out of the lake
Great Mother River and Great Mountain Father,
to your will they entrust what The People forsake
Your vision must suffer, the babies still cry,
the cold through the tent flaps, all future in blight
You must leave us now, but leave us in darkness,
for when you return, a new vision will burn bright
You will ride to the top of the ‘Pass Of The Bears,’
ask the Grizzly, our brother, if the demon still preys
If it does, you must kill it, for this time and always,
it has hovered above us keeping spirits away
The White Horse will take you from the lake to the mountain,
and the stallion will sprout wings with its hooves fiery hot
You will trample this demon and burn him before you,
the smoke will then signal of what he is not
Wana Hin Gle, my son; the time is for going,
your vision awaits, past-futures on hold
The Medicine Woman is locked deep inside you,
your People die waiting—the young and the old”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)
Copyright © Kurt Philip Behm | Year Posted 2018