My Anishinaabe Hosts

A thousand years of riverbank I trod.
I walked along beside my hosts before my grandfather was born.
The children had a game they played, I saw and asked them to explain.
They showed me it, and laughed at me, they beat me at it every time.
We walked along past guardians who smiled while making pemmican.
With games afoot and trade in play, the river flowed and markets smiled.

We shared tobacco, faith and coffee there.
My buckskin wearing friends showed me their warm demeanor all day long.
We shared inspiring images and helped each other understand.
The Spirit loves and guides us, humbly waits and trusts us with this land.
We must take care of what’s within this span o’er Turtle Island’s back.
The walk we took then turned around and things felt like they might just end.

I realized I HAD TO SAY IT THEN:
The men we meet are just like you and me, with shame and pride and greed.
You won’t believe me now, but mark my words, this land will break on us,
And when it does, we cannot un-break it, all we will do is watch.
The buffalo will be all gone, your livlihood will disappear.
It seems implausible, and who knows who to trust, so watch men close.

But even so, unto the end of time,
Forever will the footprints that belong to Man and beast be here.
It is our duty caring for each other, so the Spirit says.
Let’s walk together now, for when we see the shortcomings of men
Bear fruit for us to see, we’ll bear each others’ burdens since we must.
Let’s walk together too. Tell stories. Play games. Bear each other here.

November 11, 2013