from Dreaming of a True World
by Ed Little Crow
by Ed Little Crow
"Before the Greedy Ones"
When I think about when I was young I think about when my grandparents lived free, to hunt and fish when and where they chose. Sitting by the fire telling stories of long ago of the good hunt that has long since gone ho Tunkashila!
I long for the life of yesterday long since forgotten .
Camp fires, stories from the elders of wars forgone , braves,
warriors, chiefs, long forgotten.
When you speak of times long forgotten
you speak of my people as they were before the coming of the greedy ones.
When the trees were tall, the grass was green, and the ground was rich and free.
Like the people who lived on it. Rich in freedom, free in spirit, with the will to live as they always have! Campfires burning in the water night like the streets of the city, with its lights and artificial heat.
Caught between two times
passing through knowing
and not knowing
of the life of long ago.
Trying to do what I must.
Always wrong.
Thinking of Tunkashila and long ago cooking on a wood stove. Home made bread , hunting and good winter, spring and the passing of a season . City bars and talk of going back. Tradition long lost .
Come and talk with me of our past.
Are we Indians or just a memory of a burning campfire?
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photo: "Ed at First Nations Day, Ashland, Or. 2006" by antoinette nora claypoole
"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 standards 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 
