Tunkasila’s 
watch and wait
wondering 
if we the Oceti Sakowin
can reunify
stand together
smudging boundaries
lines of division
let our numbers 
show strength, endurance, perseverance, survival
beyond “Manifest Destiny”

… Here     I     am
in the warm wind
next to the lapping water of the 
winding Missouri
boundary of the 1868
Fort Laramie Treaty
a poet
shadowing
the giants of this time
those who opened the world so 
I could write
express myself freely
as an Ihanktowan, Nakota woman

Eyes closed
I see…
words and facts
flashing
billboard warnings, forebodings
a barrage of confused
historical facts
suppositions, opinions, orders, broken treaties
legal jargon…
clouding the content
of the most important
land claim case of this era
imprinted sorely in my mind
by the 1975 United States
Court of Claims

“A more ripe and rank case of dishonorable dealings will never, in all probability, be found in
our history, which is not, taken as a whole, the disgrace it now pleases some persons to believe.” 

from this 
humble role
I am beginning 
to distinguish
between
the quandary of facts and jargon
surrounding this 
battle
and understand that our warriors are those
who wield words
with spear points of pens
turn 
their educations into 
lances, clubs, tomahawks
write with sharp eloquence and 
craft necessary to topple 
the writings of those
          “founding fathers”
who composed documents
exercising “eminent domain”

disrobing our mother—Unci Maka
chiseling
scarring
the remnants of our elder Inyan
severe faces above, 
landmarks of subjugation

We cry “Hoka He!” now
and it is no longer
an individual sacrifice
we have survived too long
to let our Oyate disband
confused and separate
cry now in unison
call on the grandfathers
for guidance
I want to
smudge the past
wave smoke over the pain
cleanse the mire of this mixed up world
that places emphasis on
making these lines of division

          so clear and cut

I want to
burn the historical trauma
the Oyate endured
send it to the creator
in smoke from 
the Pipe
revive myself so I can
use my voice

to call our spirits back 
to He Sapa
as my mother used to call 
my spirit home from a 
long trip

to implore unity among the Oyate, 
the Oceti Sakowin
and tell the world
there is no such thing as 
the “End of the Trail!”