UPON THE BACK OF OUR MOTHER

In the middle of the night. I sit and think on it all. My little world and the bigger world surrounding it. Maybe everyone feels they are living in strange times when they are at the crux of their generations moment to step up to the plate. Being Native in this American Life means being born within two worlds. Coming out of the womb straddling a line. A line between your traditional tribal roots and whatever modern novelty Western Culture is currently up on. It’s weird when you discover your very presence is political. Before the casino’s, meaning before the money, we were nearly invisible. Almost full century since the violence at Wounded Knee. A sea of bold and many burnt out circles scattered across the curve of this particular land. Upon the back of a mother, who became mother to wandering children with unsual ideas like Manifest Destiny. Life in these times seem surreal. Many ideas that were outdated from their inception implode across her back right now. It’s always been a battle for the minds. So while these times may feel surreal. It’s an age old cycle set on repeat. Human beings running around thinking they’re bigger than the mother of all mothers. And yet we are just circles within many others. Beautiful late summer storms now brew at my back.