osām mistahi ikī-pimohtāhtak, anōch ekwa mākōtāw

“they have carried too much, today they are struggling”

the world does not know your strength

and does not recognize the load it gave you to bear

and is blind to the ways it continues to add to it

but I see you

I see what you carry

I carry it with you




I miss my Grandmother

the moon

Her soft sad smile

I thought the nighttime winds were Her cold, sharp fingers

I did not understand why She dug into my skin, my heart, my spirit

I never thought to ask

until the night She told me

that She was just as afraid of the dark as I was


I was born in two pieces

two halves seemingly at odds

and I learned to live

split apart

I was grown in two different places

in two different ways

I became two different people

my world knew I was half-breed

and I lived twice simultaneously

often my Body would go places

that my Mind did not want to

sometimes it was the other way around

and I learned how to send them their separate ways

my Loving would yearn for one thing

my Knowing another

or they’d each be equally cut down the middle

and I learned how to breathe with shattered lungs

I sometimes think to glue myself together

but I don’t know how

don’t know if I want to