EDITOR’S NOTE: When we keep loved ones in our thoughts, we give them a closer presence in our lives. So too can we connect with the spirit of others through our dreams, Lois Red Elk says. This is merely one aspect of Lakota/Dakota dream culture, a culture that is more than inextricably tethered to the nature world, but co-atomized, like breathing and air. In the brand new poem below, that will be included in a new volume of work coming soon, Lois writes about connecting to her granddaughter and channeling deer spirit. —Mountain Journal Eds.
Hello Friends at MoJo,
Now that the pandemic is under some control, I am wanting to travel and visit children and grandchildren, missing them so much. They send pics and we talk via all the different media options. Was thinking about my dream culture and how i can communicate through dreams and prayers.
What is important is that we maintain a reaching through spirit as that is the best communicator. My oldest grranddaughter sent a pic of herself cutting up a deer at her table. I was able to dream about the entire event and now share.
Piidamaya—thank you—for being here,
Lois
At Her Table
By Lois Red Elk
In moments of quiet, I observe her
patient energy. She is busy at work.
It is a picture sent from a 1000 miles
away, on the same latitude, but I’m
there, at her table, in the same space
With equal thoughts I recall from my
deer experiences – the skinning, sharing.
I see her preparing. She retrieves her
knife, cutting board, pans, towels. An
air of spirits gather, language arrives.
She sets her eye on a hind quarter, cuts
in half, then again in half for easier
handling. I see her heart, mouth move,
lips open, close as she repeats traditional
prayers to deer, the Gods above, below
An ancient thank you song leans into
spaces between those seated. It is
tradition to do things with others
watching and guiding, like she saw
her grandmas speak with the invisible.
The deer spirit, lingers near an open
window, watches, leaves her scent in
rooms for a while. Hooves, legs, body
already leaping in distant, green fields,
ready to join family among constellations.
Cooling hours come rushing in through
both doors, windows, as the sun entity
lowers. This saving breeze is for tired
fingers, moist brow, from the lesser gods
of ancient culture, reminding, blessing.
Her table begins to expand for all the
sliced flesh – for thank you offerings,
for delicious recipes, for generous
portions she plans for elders, the poor,
for hungry children loved by deer.
After the last cut, the deer spirit nods,
leaves a prayer for all the grandchildren.
She releases a thank you sigh. Essence from
sage, sweet grass, spirits dwindle, dissipate
as she clears her table for the next project.
© Lois Red Elk
POSTNOTE: 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. Given headlines that continue to appear about the discoveries of new atrocities committed at boarding schools for indigenous children, we encourage you to read Lois’ last contribution to MoJo that appeared in June, The Unspeakable Past Of Indian Boarding Schools
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