Spring precipitation, when it comes as rain or snowmelt, often presages the hardship or bounties of summer. And it has been that way for as long as memories can remain embedded in the stories of our ancestors. Photo courtesy Jim Peaco/NPS
Spring Greetings to My MoJo Friends,
I am reflecting on the dry winter we had up here on the highlands where the Missouri River (Mnedosa enters and fills Fort Peck Reservoir.
Water is so important for our crops, wild medicine plants, wildlife
and our buffalo.
I remember my father telling me that not only do we humans pray
for rain but the earth and animals thirst and seek rain in the clouds and air.
This memory is where the following poem comes from. Be well. —Lois Red Elk
Their Prayer for Magazu
by Lois Red Elk
He offers an eagle wing and draws a circle where
sky and earth create a bond. It is the plea from
many hearts and tongues that will call creator’s
attention for responding signs. In between breath
and song, a ring will gently vibrate river banks where
ponds, dry skin, and silent grasses join the request.
She offers up bowls of cedar and sage and eases into the
skin of silent prayers where depth of knowledge comes
from mother’s womb, where original water cradled all.
Her prayer tongue, turning into many languages, calls
spirits of all nations who will watch for a smoke offering
then listen for the ancient beat of collective water songs.
Lizard instructs with tracks leading into the shadows
of gathering clouds. He remembers creation and his
agreement to guard the cascades. His lodge between
rocks and embracing sun turns into sweat as he carves his
composition in sand and asks for final direction to lay
parched offspring or to lay his dependants in future pools.
Rushing to the camp of all those making a plea, scorched
leaves tumble, while furry, parched relatives offer tuffs of
sweet grass from subterranean altars. Then coyote, lifting
his scruffy head, speaks with the apparitions in a surprising
but pleasing melody, lamenting his thirst and dry tongue.
It is his simple song that draws appeased clouds to the plains.
EDITOR'S NOTE: May we share a few things you may not know about Mountain Journal poet in residence Lois Red Elk (Dakota/Lakota) who is an elder at Fort Peck and an adjunct professor at the local community college. On her mother's side of the family she has Isanti roots and from her father's Hunkpapa and Ihanktonwa blood line, she is descended from Sitting Bull. During her earlier years living in Los Angeles, Red Elk was an actress, film technical advisor, TV talk show host, and an FM radio host at Pasadena City College.
We are pleased that Lois is working away on a new collection of poems and will let you know when it is published. In the meantime, ask for her other volumes at your favorite local bookseller: Our Blood Remembers, winner of the best non-fiction award from Woodcraft Circle of Native Writers and Storytellers; Dragonfly Weather; and Why I Return to Makoce with a foreword from Montana's recent state poet laureate Lowell Jaeger and nominated for a High Plains Book Award in poetry.
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About Lois Red Elk-Reed
Lois Red Elk-Reed is a poet who calls the high plains home. She is Mountain Journal's poet in residence.
