Dreaming of a True World by Ed Little Crow

Dreaming of a True World

A Opchine WaLa Ohkon

poems, stories and memories by Ed Little Crow

Poems, stories and memories by Ed Little Crow, Lakota/Dakota veteran of the Seige of Wounded Knee, 1973 member of the Elder's Council in Southern Oregon.

This is a collection of Little Crow's writings and thoughts about the world as we find it now, the world as he knew it when he was young. "Dreaming" is a quintessential journey into the borderlands of human survival. Included are his poems from the 1980's and 90's, previously unpublished stories about the American Indian Movement, and commentaries about "being Indian", all transcribed from Little Crow interviews conducted in Ashland, Or. 2006.

Book includes tribute to Dave Chief (1929-2005), Lakota, photos by antoinette nora claypoole and old AIM images donated by Robert Robideau (RIP Feb. 2009).

Sharon Doubiago, Oregon Literary Arts “poetry book of the year” award winner, praises Little Crow's new work:

“If I had a horse I would ride

To the thundering falls

To taste the brother hood floating free in this land of our seeed....

There are no elders anymore to make predictions or prophecies to teach people,

especially young people, children, how to live in this alienation….”

But Ed Little Crow is our elder and he is teaching us here in his words and thoughts collected by Wild Embers”

photos/into by antoinette nora claypoole
archived AIM images donated by Robert Robideau, Anishanabe/Ojibway (RIP Feb. 2009)
66 pages, $12

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About the author:

Ed Little Crow is Lakota, Dakota member of the Elders Council in S. Oregon, veteran of the Seige of Wounded Knee, 1973, father and poet. His years as a quiet, steady force in the Oregon communities within which he has lived, worked and prayed have etched themselves into the psyche of all he meets.

His new, first book A Opchine Wala Ohkon (means "dreaming of a True World"in Lakota) is a small collection of his poems, stories and memories as gathered from his days in Eugene and Ashland, Oregon.

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"Within the cages of life"

A light with in glows
We see vision
As in our cloth beds

We dream
Of a time in history
When before us a quality of life
That once came to us
From nature
So at a time in life
Chained to a reality

Like as in prison
Life as we have know it
Passes us by
As we find ways to survive
The way of life which has endured remains forever
poem
Forgive me
For this is to much
I am a Indian soul
Trapped blocked by concrete forms
And chaotic carelessness
Listen and you can hear my ancestors
Voicing their discontent at the broken hoop
A tribe with out a golden dream
I am in a old state
With out a eagle
Only the foreshadowing of clouds against the sun
from the dissolution of a broken promise
A lonely cell
A dim bar
An unmarked grave
A lonely figure , uncertain, afraid
An object of alcohol jail, prisons and drugs a social misfit
An object of abuse and social scorn
Accepted only in handsome dress
And appearance
An object of judicial tongue lashing
Law and social abuse
I am a Indian soul trapped in a pale obscurity
I had an american dream
Until the memory of that dream
Turned into a nightmare
A savage
I was

In the rising sun
Baptized , civilized, Christianized
I have nowhere to go
If I had horse I would ride
To the thundering falls
To taste the brother hood floating free in this land
Of our seed
For there is no rainbow
In this country of displacement
The woman of my long waiting is with me now
On one autumn night the only woman I will ever love
Will lay in a peaceful sleep
Dreaming of a true world of right to come
As in a world of dissolution
We forgive
The people who believe
That each are trapped in a social net
Forgive the young
For tomorrow is just as much theirs as it is ours
And we want to do the right
Just passing through
People don’t want to believe
The badness and abuse
Or that all of america
Is being destroyed
Both north and south
Land ripped open left unhealed
Forests decimated
Or turned into artificial tree farms
Rivers, lakes, and oceans
Are being polluted
Asphalt concrete and plastic jungles
Of European culture
Are leaving behind decaying ruins filled with the rejected sectors
of human society
A thundering that no longer clashes
Because of an Indian soul longing to be free

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from his new book "A Opchine WaLa Ohkon: Dreaming of a True World"

Reality has fallen in our US

We have a world where we exploit one another

To make one another and ourselves look good

It is certain that all people need spiritual nourishment

For their spirit

People come from a culture with a meaningless set of values

A set of standads they can not control

I think that I have done enough for reality and purpose

We cannot find a cure for that

Like the lack of openness and knowledge

They don't come with directions

People have to have courage and honor

A life of culture

Like today looking from yesterday

A life that is being removed

By a reality that is unreal

From the far corners of my mind

I look for answers

To save my world from the invaders of life

For I have no magic

So my human weakness is too strong

Unlike yours

Its all I have left to protect the life I have

In your time of life

You love the family

So with our father the sun in our face

From the East somes the dawn of a new day

Our brothers and sisters are sleeping

Awaiting the coming of our mother the night

Old ways, ancient ways of another time

Be kind to your modern relative

Then there comes a breath of life

In a dream of peace like a change of life

These words and others pass by your eyes

That this day has its roots

In the nourishing soil

Of our Mother

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PHOTO: "Ed at First Nations Day, Ashland, Or. 2006" by antoinette nora claypoole

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Dreaming of a True World

A Opchine WaLa Ohkon
by Ed Little Crow

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