roots twist over rock
searching, a slow motion dance
ever persisting
then, soft ground’s surface piercing
wisdom tapped from deep within
~
Words and Photography ©2016 Tanya Cliff ~ to contact me
Posted in tanka & poetry. Bookmark the permalink.
cracked chrysalis falls ~
butterfly flutters wings dry ~
winds lift soft kite high.
~
Words and Photography ©2016 Tanya Cliff ~ to contact me
Posted in haiku & poetry. Bookmark the permalink.
Weep, clouds, and join my sadness
in
clear,
melancholy
drops
that
trickle
and
channel
and
flow like rivers into puddles
with
no
warming
ray
of
sunshine
to
cause their shimmering sparkle
of
fluid
to
dance
like
a
mountain
jeweled
creek
running
on
a
cloudless, blue-skied day
No, let them drop to the ground
and
moody
stay,
flat
and
grey
mirrors
reflecting
inverted
perverted
realities
back to the sympathetic skies
that
respond
by
pouring
out
a
concurring
symphony
of
rhythmic
drops
that
vibrate the mirrors
in
continuously pulsing ripples
distorting
the
mourning
view
that
make
them/me
cry
endlesss
clear
melancholy
rivers
of
drops
I salt-season the parched ground at my feet
where
multitudes
of
bare
starving
hurting
neglected
iron-pierced
feet
tread
mingling their bleeding blood
in
my
salty
river’s
flow
making cracked-skin soothing mud
that
poor
moms
will
form
into
cakes
to
fill
the
bellies
of
their
screaming
young
ones –
a
blood/bread
communion
of
the
rag-covered
despondent
forsaken
saints
HYPOCRITES
but let the little children come to it
anyway
and
do
not
hinder
them,
for
their
bellies
rumble
empty
and
their
bones
show
that
they
need
some
mass
to
fill
them
even
if
it
be
no
more
than
the
tear
mingled
bloody
mud
at
my
feet
I
weep
and
salt-season
the
parched
ground
at
my
iron-pierced
weary
feet
Weep, clouds, and join my grief
~
Words and Photography ©2016 Tanya Cliff ~ to contact me
Posted in human need & poetry. Bookmark the permalink.
“Words do not pay for my dead people.”
Shall we talk
about
it
awhile while we travel the miles
of
defiled
land
slaughtered
animals
murdered
people
that
lead
to a
place
you will be
graciously confined to
called
a
reservation
but
you
don’t
need
an
application
just
lose
your
apprehension
and
stay
put
here
awhile while we hand out the piles
of
stingy
food
rationed
goods
white man’s
ways
that
you
are
being
graciously supplied
without
hesitation.
“Good words will not give me back my children.”
Yes, but you fled
showing great
premonition
against our
demands,
AND
we require
your
supplication
without
RESERVATION.
“Treat all men alike. Give them all the same law.”
Sure, just submit
to our
imposed
economic
spiritual
cultural
bounded
limitations
until we discover the next resource we want.
“Give them all an even chance to live and grow.”
You ARE free to live
and grow –
within the
restriction
called
a
RESERVATION
and
all
its
white man’s
imposed
economic
spiritual
cultural
bounded
rules!
“Let man be a free man – free to travel, free to stop, free to work, free to trade where I choose, free to choose my own teachers, free to follow the religion of my fathers, free to think and talk and act for myself – and I will obey every law, or submit to the penalty.”
Sigh.
We’ve talked
about
it
awhile
while you traveled the miles
to
bitter
tears
stolen
lives
broken
hearts
that
you
have now
been
forever (until we discover the next valuable resource we want need)
graciously subjected to
called
a
reservation
but…
“You might as well expect the rivers to run backward as that any man who was born a free man should be contented when penned up and denied liberty to go where he pleases.”
but…
“I am tired of talk that comes to nothing. It makes my heart sick when I remember all the good words and all the broken promises.”
but…
“All men were made by the same Great Spirit Chief. They are all brothers…”
but…
“Words do not pay for my dead people.”
—
All the words in quotes above were taken from a speech given by In-mut-too-yah-lat-lat (Thunder traveling over the Mountains), more commonly known as Chief Joseph. He was chief of a tribe of the Nez Perces (Wal-lam-wat-kin band of the Chute-pa-lu), a group of people who had maintained peace with white people since they had first met and helped Lewis and Clark in 1805. It was always his goal to live peacefully with the white people. After a few young Nez Perces men took revenge on a white settler group who had killed their own fathers and brothers, Chief Joseph’s tribe became the target of military action and revenge, in spite of his appeals.
He led an extraordinary 1400 mile retreat with a band of 750 men, women, children and elderly through the mountains and canyons of the Northwest. He was simply seeking a safe place for his people to dwell. In four months, his people fought 18 separate battles against the pursuing American troops that numbered more than 2000 regular army men with an added number of militia. They were stopped just 40 miles from the Canadian border that would have provided their protection. Chief Joseph’s surrender speech, given after a five day siege near the Bear Paw Mountains, is a painful one to read. It includes the quote: “I want to have time to look for my children, and see how many of them I can find. Maybe I will find them among the dead. Hear me, my chiefs! I am tired. My heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands I will fight no more forever.”
The speech from which I quoted Chief Joseph in the poem was given in Washington, D.C. to lawmakers as an appeal for his people to be returned to their ancestral lands in Oregon as he had been promised upon his surrender. His people had been taken, against the terms promised, to a desolate, malaria-ridden reservation in Oklahoma where many of them died.
Chief Joseph and some of his followers were eventually moved to Washington Territory where this courageous, wise, peaceful man died from what his doctor termed “a broken heart”. He was labeled and is remembered by many whites as the “Red Napoleon”, an incredible misnomer.
In order to understand the passion behind and the importance of the DAPL peaceful protesting in North Dakota, I think it helps to understand our history of broken promises, ignored treaties, stolen lands, decimated resources and appalling reservation conditions that native people have faced since white people began moving into, destroying and taking control of Indigenous lands.
Words and Photography ©2016 Tanya Cliff ~ to contact me
Posted in poetry, noDAPL & human rights. Bookmark the permalink.
