June 4, 2020

Palms On Buffalo Skull: With Maka Unci, We Are Never Alone

Two poems to usher in summer by Lois Red Elk (Dakota/Lakota) as we contemplate the wisdom of Taku Wakan

by Lois Red Elk-Reed

EDITOR'S NOTE: Lois Red Elk was never raised to believe that humans are in charge of that which has passed or what is yet to come. And so, now, in these times of Covid-19 and protests over the killing of Floyd George she yields to larger forces at work in the natural world and cosmos. What we can do is try to keep a clear head and pure heart in confronting adversity and using prayer (whatever form it takes and to whomever it is directed) to hold on to the only thing that matters and moves forward meaningful change that lasts: love. For June, the month that brings us abiding summer, Red Elk offers two poems, including the new work, Palms on Buffalo Skull.

by Lois Red Elk

Hello My Mountain Journal Friends,

Been staying safe, these days.

Thinking about the pandemic and the very sad news currently all over the internet. All I can do as an elder is pray. I've been doing a lot of that lately. I am truly thankful for my ancestor teachings and spirituality. We are never alone with Maka Unci—grandmother earth, and the great spirit with us. One of the most significant spiritual parts of the buffalo is the skull which holds all the wisdom of the universe and the spiritual unknown Taku Wakan.

"We are never alone with Maka Unci—grandmother earth, and the great spirit with us. One of the most significant spiritual parts of the buffalo is the skull which holds all the wisdom of the universe and the spiritual unknown Taku Wakan."

I have been praying for that wisdom and spirit to aid all those who need it in our country today. Palms on the Buffalo Skull is a new poem and For Prayer is from my earlier volume Dragonfly Weather.

Best to you all,

Lois

"Buffalo Gathering Shield," a painting by Kevin Red Star (Crow). To see more of Red Star's amazing work, go to kevinredstar.com

Palms On Buffalo Skull

(for my sons, Dustin and Neil)

Standing with palms on the Buffalo skull,

I watch the tips of the horns. One reaches

for the Red space, the other reaches for

the Black, it is a road from East to West,

from a rising to a setting, from a birth

to a cleansing, for a life choice. The

skull’s eyes are filled with bundles of sage,

a shield, the acknowledgement that this

moment, this alter is sacred and will be

protected. Again, his horns move and are

encircled with sage bracelets donated by

last year’s Sun Dancer, was told to use as

the humble trail for the sweat and tears all

sacrificed for the height of sun, the rattle

of cottonwood leaves, the support of songs,

the rhythm of the flute, to honor the life

giver, to honor all relatives, to honor sacred

breath, to honor all that is. I watch smoke

circle the house, the room, the hair, the body.

Time to retreat, to set mind to the wisdom

of the skull, where all blood knowledge

filters from the universe into the skin of

dancers, children, food, water. At one, the

vibration begins, palms on the Buffalo skull

become warm, become energized, become

extended, become taken. Now prayer begins…

Buffalo Gap National Grassland in South Dakota. Photo courtesy US Forest Service

For Prayer

This day, I adorn braided

sweet grass earrings handed

down from mother’s Santee

rings of aromatic medicine.

From the ancestor lands of

father’s Lakota family, I fill

pockets with handfuls of

cedar, my protective shield.

Into this circle of morning

spirit food, a prayer surfaces

from the Southern recess of

primal night-dwelling dreams.

I thank the Western powers,

where a mirror reflects

images of the ones I trust-

transparent photos of the

Mitakuyepi, floating in

frames of red and yellow

buffalo grass, thundering in

a structure of immortality.

To my ancestor’s Northern

power, my garden awaits

the first sound of thunder, I

meditate a promise of sage,

the offering to be burned

waving away harmful spirits.

To the East where all our

ceremonies approach the

carved pipestone, I extol

all the waiting visible spirits,

“Thank you for this rising,

this keep that cradles me.”

Mitakuyepi – my relatives

NOTE: This poem appeared in Red Elk's volume Dragonfly Weather. You can buy a copy by clicking here.

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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June 4, 2020

Palms On Buffalo Skull: With Maka Unci, We Are Never Alone

Two poems to usher in summer by Lois Red Elk (Dakota/Lakota) as we contemplate the wisdom of Taku Wakan

Defend Truth &Wild Places

Defend Truth &
Wild Places