Standing Rock by Jeremy Blackwater

Nothing can be adequate to explain what is happening at Standing Rock. Being there has been a most profound event. I will probably write more poems on this  but I do offer this poem as a beginning.


Mitakuye Oyas’in    All my Relations


“Good Morning, all my kin”

Echo around the camp.

Brown faces, black hair, dark eyes

Surround me like a second skin.

Coating me with pride.


Burning sage fills my nostrils.

Sleeping on warn dirt.

I feel the Nations merge.

Revered ancestors materialize.

Our feet rooted on sacred ground.


Emotions don’t matter

Nations don’t matter.

Gender doesn’t matter.

Jobs don’t matter.

Protecting water counts.


Dancing slaps the earth.

Singing carried by wind.

Tales of old blends the voices.

Rough hands beat the drums.

Our strength increases as one.


We are Native.

Claimed by tradition

Named by elders

Stirred by ceremony.

Led by the Great Spirt


Mitakuye Oyas’in



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