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The Spirit World Is Never Apart

How does poet Lois Red Elk find grounding in challenging times? By honoring the soulful sustenance of the creator's gifts

White-tailed deer moving through the homeland of Red Elk and her Dakota and Lakota ancestors. Historic photo courtesy USDA
White-tailed deer moving through the homeland of Red Elk and her Dakota and Lakota ancestors. Historic photo courtesy USDA
Great poets bring clarity to things we may not yet see. Great poems move with lasting resonance when their message transcends the limits we artificially impose on time. Consider this passage from Lois Red Elk:

To walk this earth in a sacred manner I must connect the skin of
 my feet or the skin of the deer with the surface of the earth. The 
 deer sacrificed its life for my nourishment and for my protection.
 The deer know this. Through the connection between myself and 
 Mother Earth, my life becomes renewed by the everlasting potency
 radiating from Mother to me. She was and will always be my
 umbilical cord, keeping me close to her heart, feeding me with 
 breast food, water, herbs, breath and fire. With this bond, I have 
no need to flee, fear or hide.

Like many, Red Elk and her family are now in self-quarantine and she sends her warm greetings. In House of Portals, below, she reminds us to shake our false material constructs and try to to understand when enough is enough, to have gratitude for the simple things that matter most. Those things are our connections and honoring—always being aware—of the others who make our life possible including those who do not walk on two legs. "I think this poem is important for today as it one of appreciation for the values my culture teaches,"  she writes.

House of Portals is a meditation and let it bring you solace and mindful recognition of not what we're missing but what we have.  We are grateful for you, Lois Red Elk. Pidamaya —Mountain Journal
Burning of sage used in prayer and to purify our minds of bad thoughts and negativity.  Photo courtesy Andrea Parrish-Geyer/Flickr
Burning of sage used in prayer and to purify our minds of bad thoughts and negativity. Photo courtesy Andrea Parrish-Geyer/Flickr
 House of Portals (For Grandmother High Back) 

By Lois Red Elk

 The house of portals takes my story from once upon a time
 to this present room where a resurrected eagle and hawk have
 winged their way to my personal space. Their essence perches
 in the living room context and listens for something moving,
 as dreams take a quantum leap into my sunrise.

 My home, on the ‘rez’ in Northeastern Montana, has been the
 portal entrance for this present journey through space. Some
 call my stories myth, well myth works for me and continues to
 be the encyclopedia for my life. I entered this zone from stars
 to this star, through a unique atmosphere, from a sacred zygote
 produced by Back Tracks His Horses and Good Voice Woman. 
 In this HUD home are stories, carried on ash poles, that chronical
 my path. One pole supports the head of a sacrificed Eagle along
 with all the sacred feathers. The pole is secured to the wall by nails
 and screws. The eagle head is not dead. The eagle spirit 
 remains  according to heart, and the eyes of the eagle search
 the room, the air and has vision through the walls and into
 the atmosphere surrounding my home. It is always the movement
 of other spirits that trigger the eyes to wake from a dream space
 that exists in our parallel world. 

 This yard, this house, this open heart accepts all animal prayers
 and welcomes the carved cottonwood bowl with cleansing sage
 smoke to my hair. It is then I know we are all one for this early
 morning nourishment of earth presence where no famine lingers
 only the domain of pure harmonious spirits.

 Prayer exists in this home, prayer that includes the energy of all
 the spirits who live here. I welcome and encourage all these 
 entities by preparing a container of sage that I pick every year 
 out in the country. Sage is for cleansing bad thoughts from the
 area and all things that are negative. It is important for story to
 abide according to ritual and my ritual has been practiced for eons.
 This ritual not only acknowledges that there is negative, but there
 is also positive energy that needs to be lauded forever. I know 
this as ancestor’s prayers instructed me so that all will balance for 
this day. These aromas fed my spiritual needs so that I am filled 
with eternal love and humility. This practice keeps me alive, I will 
never know void. I will only know energy that is fed the same way.

 I walk in moccasins made of sacrificed deer hide, not for running 
 or escaping but walking purposefully down the hallway that daily 
 transforms from a rug to a path of fresh buffalo grass where I 
 recognize an echo off living air next to grandma’s vibrating 
 neutrinos. They have assembled to greet me at my bedroom door. 

 To walk this earth in a sacred manner I must connect the skin of
 my feet or the skin of the deer with the surface of the earth. The 
 deer sacrificed its life for my nourishment and for my protection.
 The deer know this. Through the connection between myself and 
 Mother Earth, my life becomes renewed by the everlasting potency
 radiating from Mother to me. She was and will always be my
 umbilical cord, keeping me close to her heart, feeding me with 
 breast food, water, herbs, breath and fire. With this bond, I have 
no need to flee, fear or hide. All fear is removed all I need do
 is walk the good red road laid out for me in the traditionalstories. 
 This connection, this road, this path can then transcend this space/ 
 reality  to the parallel world and back to me. That which exists
 there comes alive with its own vitality, own vision and opens my 
 eyes to all sacred places. The vibrating coming from this space
 arrives in my body and allows me to make my way to the place
 where I can enter another world, the place where my grandmother
 has planned to meet me in eternity. 

 We unite as our energy embraces a common cloak, a common 
 mind of belief and love, and instantly I am standing next to her 
 at the wooden table in the log house grandpa built, where she 
 sews quilt pieces made into blankets that yawn prayers over all 
 lives she protects. My life, too, shielded in the stitches and blood. 

 In my upbringing I learned very carefully the meaning of love 
 from  my grandparents and my second set of parents, my aunts
 and uncles. The meaning of tiwahe, or family, means all the
 energy, spirit and love that exists in our household is extended
 to the children, elders and close family members. It is what
 keeps us together, cooperating and surviving. This love
 and spirit continues after death. For us D/Lakota, the human body 
 ends, but the spirit and potency that was given to us by
 the Great Spirit continues. In our prayers, dreams and ceremonies
 we can reconnect with those spirits. My grandmothers and
 aunts made me several quilts when I was young and I remember 
 all the love and careful planning that went into those quilts. When
 I cover myself at night, I am warmed, comforted, and connected. 
 This is one place where I am united. 

 We speak this way, mind to mind, and have done so all my life
 as planned from the other world. Now it is the moment, time to
 burn cedar for her precious words and burn sweet grass for her 
 grace as I accept this oath, this unbreakable love between all space
 and all that moves. We bring presence where our portals open. 

 ©Lois Red Elk

NOTE
: Red Elk will soon release a new 
volume of poetry. Meantime, discover her other works. Why I Return To Makoce was edited by Montana's recent state poet laureate Lowell Jagger. In reviewing the volume Heather Cahoon wrote, "These poems, which are steeped in Lakota cultural traditions, urge us to take a deep breath, to take initiative, and to not allow ourselves to drift back to the safety of chains. They encourage readers to believe that change is possible and that it is through our reconnection with the spirit realm." Available through local independent booksellers.









Lois Red Elk-Reed
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.
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