English Poems From Into The Blue

The Saamis Teepee The Saamis Teepee in Medicine Hat Is white for purity, Red for the rising and setting sun, Blue for flowing waters It stands on the edge of an ancient Blackfoot buffalo jump Dan Weasel Moccasin came here Told of a merman, Told of a tepee With the sign of an otter With the waves of the river Told of a head dress of Eagle feathers Once, like the buffalo The first nation covered the plains of Southern Saskatchewan, Alberta,northern Montana. Their Medicine Lodge was used for sacred rituals Their Sweat Lodges healed andpurified Here, in the long ago time Cree and Blackfoot hunted deer and elk Traded furs with the incomers Bright with quill work, bead work. Their Moccasins, vests, tobacco bags The Plains Cree danced The Sun Dance The Sweat Dance The Thirst Dance, The Masked Dance, The Give Away Dance, The Prairie Chicken Dance, The Pipestem Bundle Dance With feasting, offeringsof food, Tobacco and prayers. They still pass on the feather, Sing, listen to stories and the wind Still feel the spirit power of the Northern Lights For all things, they will tell you, are related The Reluctant Homesteader She sleeps, but all her early dreams have fled, The prairie winds blow hard, the dustbowls blow A Scottish writer, fortune lay ahead The sun burns down, her hands, with scrubbing, red, It's not the life she wanted,Nora Low. Within her cabin walls, inside, she's dead. She left her homeland by the marriage bed But filling pails with water was so slow This frontier life was tough. She'd been misled A struggle every day to bake their bread Her pregnant belly swelled like rising dough: She wanted to birth books. Such longings fed Her thoughts, her hopes, the very words she said. She left her family, felt impelled to go Driven by need to make her mark, she sped And who are we to judge, who do not tread Her footsteps? Like the white unblemished snow Are we all perfect in the world's tableaux? Strong Scottish morals deep in her were bred But in her cabin walls, the girl was dead. São Paulo Death rides a pale horse in apocalyptic times At Vila Formosa, the biggest cemetery in Latin America Rituals must change with the sharp edges of days Caused by the quicksand of death-dealing Covid Mourners are rationed: an hour in chapel of rest No more than 10 are allowed inside the room Gravediggers and undertakers Must obey new rules Are handed a chit of paper A code in the right hand corner D3 for a suspected/ confirmed infected corpse They must wear full protective suits, They must wear masks and gloves. Meanwhile, the favelas are running out of food Now excavators are digging hundreds of graves, Large rows of expectant tombs A necropolishoneycombwaiting to be filled Death rides a pale horse in apocalyptic times