Wokiksuye

The dust is sifting between the creases of my hands
Ready to drift into the air like the memory of you in our minds
But the air is god and so is the dust
And these sharp dry grasses that crunch beneath my feet & hands
They’re god too
And you are in them
Calling to us to remember:
Wokiksuye

Remember your cries from the trove as we shot at you with your backs turned running
Remember the tears down your sundried faces as you marched from the Carolinas to Oklahoma, and on to desolation
Remember Little Moon and Big Horse and Lost Bird and Red Cloud
Remember the sprits dead at birth, not buried, but drifting
Drifting in the wind, drying on our faces, buried ‘neath the mud:
Wokiksuye

Remember when we go home to the place where the wind is blocked by buildings & trees
Where the sun is shielded by awnings, ceilings & clouds
Where the grass is sprinkled and soft on our bare feet

Remember that the wind, the sun, the grass
Still carry the Lakota
And still carry us, too.
Wokiksuye

Remember that the Lakota are still breathing in Pine Ridge
Still standing ‘neath the blanketing sun, a top the wounding grass
Fighting for something we might never understand
Because we’ve never been massacred, shot at, with our backs turned
Running against the wind—
The very wind that carries us:
Wokiksuye

This is our history, children.
Wokiksuye!

Twenty Congressional medals of Honor
Awarded by the Federal Government
To members of the 7th Calvery
For the Massacre of 350 Oglala men, women, and children
In 1890 at Wounded Knee.
Wokiksuye!

Stolen sacred hills
And desecrating carvings to remind the Oglala:
This is no longer your land,
You are no longer free,
We will raid & scalp you
Fearlessly, shamelessly
Wokiksuye!

Catholic boarding schools
And ethnic cleansing
Cutting ponytails
And corporal punishment
For whispering words in Lakota
Wokiksuye!
Wokiksuye!

Remember the sundance and the vision quest and the sweat lodge.
Remember forgiveness and difference and retribution.
Remember—the Lakota are a living struggle.
A living culture.
A living family.
And we are all family:
Mitakuye Oyasin.

They’re asking us to remember.
Wokiksuye...