July 21, 2020

Here Comes The Sun

For people of the prairie, as poet Lois Red Elk reminds, summer is a time of togetherness, prayer and gratitude

by Lois Red Elk-Reed

Summer gathering of Lakota around dawn of the 20th century.

by Lois Red Elk

Hello friends of Mountain Journal,

I took a break from everything and am just returning from camping with all my Dakota/Lakota relatives on the beautiful homelands of the Dakotas.

It was the time of year for our very sacred ceremony that occurs during the Moon when chokecherries turn black. It is our thanks giving ceremony when all the seven bands of the Dakota/Lakota

gather.

My home was a tipi for a full week. Every morning I was awakened by a camp crier, calling us to greet the sun and pray. My neighbor would start a wood fire and put on a pot of coffee. The smell of

wood smoke and brewing coffee was like a home I knew as a child. Everyday our camp circle took turns cooking and preparing all the sacred medicines we would need for the day.

I met up with friends I haven’t seen for years, made so many new ones and was energized by all the young people who requested storytelling.

I watched as the sacred tree was brought into the camp and witnessed all the young adults who pledged to dance, learn the sacred songs of ceremony and bring unity and peace to our people. All the activity of the camp brought back memories of times I witnessed as a youth and thought I wouldn’t see again. Especially did I remember one morning, getting up very early, to pray with my grandmother.

In all the times of listening to her prayers, she always referred to the earth as a relative. This one morning she addressed the sun as a relative, one that arrives faithfully, one that is greeted as a special

guest, and one that should be treated as the revered one. I’m offering two poems this month. And, I’m sure you all know what the ceremony Is called.

Untitled ledger drawing in graphite and colored pencil by Lakota artist and leader Black Hawk, born ca. 1832. Piece was featured in a 2016 exhibition of ledger art staged by plainsledgerart.org

The Sun is Coming

Standing with grandma in the early

hours, I am little but a part of this new

day, breeze is brushing my cheeks, chin,

tossing my hair, I feel her body close,

watch as she unfolds hands filled with

tobacco and know it is a sign for prayer,

good words. She sings with the rays of

light springing from Maka Unci, keeps

tempo with each bowing stem of grass,

their motion created from surges of the

ground wind. She is thankful for this

moment, her time to remember all that

will come today. She prays especially

for the Sun Dancers, her nephews, all

the uncles who will know the height,

the heat of the sun. We watch as birds

arrive, begin their songs. She turns

around and lifts her hand and I watch

the tobacco float away. She tells me we

will honor a special guest, one who takes

care of us every day, one who never lets

us down. Again she says, we will be busy

today asks me to bow my head, “Say

thank you to the Sun.” I do, and always

I’ll remember how she took my hands,

smiled down at me, then turned again to

look at the breaking light. “Wayanka

takoja” she said. “Look granddaughter,

the Sun is coming, we have to get ready,”

©Lois Red Elk

Maka Unci – Grandmother Earth

Northern Cheyenne erect a Sun Dance lodge on the high plains. Photograph taken early in the 20th century. Image part of Richard Throssel Collection, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming

Somewhere Between

(for nephew Russ)

Somewhere between faith and

his cluster of

commitments, a common man

inhales love for

his people as he begins his flesh

sacrifice at the

sacred Sun Dance pole. He gulps

moisture from

humid air and lifts his prayers to a

southern wind asking

his dragonfly to use its speed and

take him quickly

to the world where vision is caught

in hope, where

sacrifice is recognized and his

weakness turns into

a victory over all that is negative.

The tethered ropes

hold firm jagged pieces

of his body,

his crying heart, and solemn words

for the 2-legged,

the children of mother earth. “This

dance is a thank

you for all that has been received,

and it is

a prayer that the people will continue.”

©Lois Red Elk

EDITOR'S NOTE: Ms. Red Elk is working on a new volume of poems. She is author of several collections of poems. Ask for them at your favorite local bookseller.

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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July 21, 2020

Here Comes The Sun

For people of the prairie, as poet Lois Red Elk reminds, summer is a time of togetherness, prayer and gratitude

Defend Truth &Wild Places

Defend Truth &
Wild Places