Travel Prayer

Ancestor Song

I will go home

Prayer to the Creator

The Purpose of Sewing and Bead Work

I Will Go Home

Into the path I enter the first room

Into Creator's Lodge, I am on the Red Road

I am talking to the creator to clear the skys, move away the clouds and remove the darkness, send the rain elsewhere...from my life

the creator says we are mide, love
Our hearts are medicine, all hear that spirit
and hear that cry

the great spirit is now flying and the days are made clear,
and the Creator says the medicine who will clear the day, is the heart

the strongest medicine, is in the heart,
the creator is in the sky and he sees me, you
I can touch him in my path, my words and with my hands

my words are medicine
receive my heart
you are all mide, love
you are all mide, love
you are all my friends
and I am mide, love.

Hear My Spirit Cry to the Sky Spirit

The Story of the First Man and the 7 teachings of Creation from his life

The First Man

**The song is repetitious intentionally, because this was a long and daily journey of hope.**

Upon Giants of the Land

When I was younger, I would climb high into the trees,
My sight distant, traveling in all directions with the wind,
I journeyed ever higher to escape the pain held within

I had this idea of a far-off place, of family waiting, looking for me,
Arms open, a warm embrace…High I climbed, if I could only see…
Further I stared, from the solitude of those trees…

There is a point when you become one,
With the rustling leaves, the gently caressing breeze,
The melodic birds who have a wisdom to impart,
the suns warmth that reaches deep into your heart

There is a harmony to knowing who you are,
A strength in finding your place,
Amidst the noise of the world, 
There is a peace you feel with the wind upon your face…

When you are high up there,
Upon the giants of the land,
It is easier to see the steps another takes,
It is easier to understand…

The journey home does not always bring a cease,
To the scars left upon your soul,
But the yearning seed persists in the pressures of the earth,
And adversity helps you grow,

I see my grandfathers and grandmothers,
Its my unbroken line, veins of my blood stretching 
Back into time…
You are my roots, so that I may grow high,
I am your purpose as you reached your hands high into the sky,
Calling for Creator to hear your plea,
Calling upon the wind, Seven Generations don´t forget about me,

Grand Nakomas I am your son from so many lines,
Marrah Koo Tay, Little Shell, Kaishpaw, Grandfather Little Pine
Turtle Woman Julie Montriel, Little Thunder, Chief Maskegon,
Wabasha, Waubojeeg, Red Cloud I am your son,
I feel your wind Old Wild Rice, Migizi and Obemau Unoqua,
I am Cree, Ojibway, Sioux, Kiowa, Haudenosaunee and Pembina,
 
When I was younger, I would climb high into the trees,
My sight distant, traveling in all directions with the wind,
I journeyed ever higher to escape the pain held within

I had this idea of a far-off place, of family waiting, looking for me,
Arms open, a warm embrace…High I climbed, if I could only see…
Further I stared, from the solitude of those trees…

But there is a point when you become one,
With the rustling leaves, the gently caressing breeze,
The melodic birds who have a wisdom to impart,
the suns warmth that reaches deep into your heart

There is a harmony to knowing who you are,
A strength in finding your place,
Amidst the noise of the world, 
There is a peace you feel with the wind upon your face…

When you are high up there,
Upon the giants of the land,
It is easier to see the steps another takes,
It is easier to understand…

Grand Nakomas I am your son from so many lines,
Marrah Koo Tay, Little Shell, Kaishpaw, Grandfather Little Pine
Turtle Woman Julie Montriel, Little Thunder, Chief Maskegon,
Wabasha, Waubojeeg, Red Cloud I am your son,
I feel your wind Old Wild Rice, Migizi and Obemau Unoqua,
I am Cree, Ojibway, Sioux, Kiowa, Haudenosaunee and Pembina

Upon Giants of the Land

Native Dreams of the Thunderer

They say there are roads we are not allowed to go, you are not the ones,

we say, The Great Spirit is in all things,
He is in the air we breathe,
The birds, the trees, the flowers, the working bees,
He is in you and me… equally

You see, I know We are not as different as it seems,
And I know it hurts, and it angers to never feel free,
To think of what has been taken, the lost native dreams,
Of swift feet on open land,
Drum beats where the tepees stand,
The call of the hunt and the buffalo breathe,
Upon frosted earth, I know you can never forget…

They cannot take away what is in your heart,
There is no losing what was never theirs,
With every sunset there is a rising moon and closer still another sunrise, a fresh start,
Step away from this never-ending trail of tears…

Your child is your communities’ life,
There is no separating their drum beat from your own,
Yet, amidst the disillusion of the little that is left,
Too many worry if their blood is enough to come home…

We say,
Union was the creator’s gift,
A Sacred red road from that Great Mystery to the sparkling stars
Of your grandchild´s eyes,
Do you still hear your creators voice upon the wind,
Do you see the great eagles soaring high upon the skies,
Calling for you to wipe the fears from tomorrows years..
Be free.

The sun is rising,
The eagle is flying,
The black elk is striding…
Will you lift that promise and take it as your own,
Plant the tepee stands and welcome all your children home
For the sunrise is coming soon, and where will you be?
Hiding away in shadows, holding onto hate…
What more is there to take?

The sun is rising.

Native Dreams of the Thunderer

The Golden Eagle

I often sit and feel the sun, Embrace the wind
Contemplate the unknowns, Of the purpose within

Looking out this is what I see…
The sun is gold, The grasshopper leaps
But none as bold, As the caterpillar who creeps
And what to behold, Between the reeds
Shimmering gold, Butterfly wings

Each breath is a pause to consider oneself,
We aren’t much different, You and me
Some walk the land, some soar the skies
Some swim the seas, all these Moments passing by

I look within myself and I see a pure truth,
I know, from whence we came, we shall return
We exist here like a gentle rain, caressing the earth, 
We exist with a purpose to learn…

But what of our Creator who views us in so many ways, 
Earth, Sea, Sky, beneath the sun’s rays, he sees us,
The sea worries for the precious drops carried afar
But there is a purpose to knowing who you are
All return to the ocean from whence they fell
All carry a story, a journey to tell

So who are you amidst the noise?
Are you what another sees, Are you what another feels?
Or are you a dream within Your heart?
Are you the morning sun whose light reveals? Warmth, Love, Compassion.

Native peoples walk this earth as shadowed reflections of their true form, 
I tried to go back… but like a day cloud moving in amidst a nightmare storm,
They saw not my heart, instead accepting mirrored reflections of their past pains,
They could not embrace me, because they were held back by hates unbreakable chains...

And yet I am a Native Son, of an unbreakable line… I will not be the first to be broken off,
To be told I am a descendent of a member, and worthy of scoff,
Dear Grandfather and Grandmothers I know your grace, 
I feel your heart when I see my face, I am your son,

So, consider the sky´s loving sun, who upon all equally it shines its light,
Consider that caring moon, rising high to give hope amidst the night,
Upon all they nourish in spirit and soul, 
Upon all they honour there is an equal truth to know, 

Each breath is a pause to consider oneself,
We aren’t much different, You and me
Some walk the land, some soar the skies
Some swim the seas, all these Moments passing by
I often sit and feel the sun, Embrace the wind
Contemplate the unknowns, Of the purpose within.

So deny me and hate me and cast me aside, Its always been that way,
I will stand with my ancestors,
Whose drum beat I carry in my chest with pride, whose steps I honour in every way.

I am the Golden Eagle soaring high, 
I am the Black Elk passing swiftly by,
And all my relations history is my own, 
Unbroken are my lines and my heart is for my Creator,
The Great Mystery who wound my heart and set my feet free,
And I hear that drum beat, they are all within me,
I am their dream, the hope of my grandmothers and grandfathers,
From whose breath I came to be…
I am their son and their binding blood flows within me,
Unbroken.
I know who I am,
I am Mide Ogichidaa Winini of the Reindeer Clan.

Golden Eagle

Anishinaabeg Indigenous sharing some songs I learned from my grandma and also my poetry

Poetry By Me

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