THE TURTLE

Excerpt from The Way Called Beautiful by Helen Bird 

AVAILABLE NOW ON amazon.com & ebook on kindle

THE TURTLE

"Those elders came from over there where the winds are always warm and cool.

How they got here long, long ago is a mystery to this Chaa-Moaakonnish.

It was a time when all life was Gitchi-Manitou.

And all life lived upon the back of this huge turtle.

At that time, the turtle had lots of room, so Gitchi-Manitou told all his red children

to hurry up and make love on turtle's back and be as many as the beautiful stars in the skies up above.

Turtle asked Gitchi-Manitou if he would but have some rest for a spell.

Turtle fell asleep and every once in a while he moves closest to where the waters lap at his side.

Where the warm winds blow cool breezes upon him and when turtle moves in his sleep, the whole of California quakes.

Someday in a time when this Chaa-Moaakmonish treats turtle too harshly, the

turtle will move to a different place.

We, the red man, call this our turtle island for that reason.

We are as fleas on a dog's tail and like fleas, we can fall off for good.

So I move through this life like turtle, slow and careful and when the time comes for Gitchi-Manitou to talk with me, I will only say,

"My beloved Creator, You own everything all over."

And I will ask,

"How did the turtle finally move?"

The answer is easy.

Always treat turtle with respect, like you treat yourself...

Do not be greedy, lustful, hunger for too much.

Just be in a patient way with yourself.

Soon enough there will be that time when you will have many questions to answer.

A time to be strong and do not always look at the other person, for he will not be there to blame you or you to blame him.

So be good to him in this life.

Some of us understand this way, and

“We know why."

                                                 

                                                      'Full Of Life'

                                            ink drawing by Helen Bird 2017

AS WE GO ALONE

EXCERPT FROM THE WAY CALLED BEAUTIFUL BY HELEN BIRD 

Available on amazon/kindle thewaycalledbeautiful by Helen Bird

We are honored, Grandfather to be gathered here today, to be nearer with you and each other.

There is a time when we must be way down, in this place where you own all that you created. We humble ourselves here, Grandfather…

I open up my heart to all, that they too feel the free soaring spirit of the many vast creations. Your creations…

I have looked at you from many ways. I saw you looking at me too. I know this feeling that was here long before we came to be.

So long as we stand here in this life, we will talk about that thin mysterious veil that separates us from our own ancestors over there on the high banks of eternity in place where they call to us always.

A place where they give us a little strength…

We are inhabitants of these sacred lodges, look at them as your tipi…

What holds a tipi upright? Strong poles…

What holds up our sacred lodge? Our bones…

The doeskin/buckskin is an adornment on your beautiful tipi where we are inhabitants inside this short time down here in this life…

When we tire of this way of life, we will walk through the thin veil to our own silent judgment.

We go alone. We will be all alone.

No one can go with you. You will speak alone for yourself.

There you will not be able to accuse or be accused, for that is why we die alone.

For that is why we come in to the world….ALONE

We all have a task in this life…

So take good care of your doeskin/buckskin and…

Remember to keep it clean.

The Centuries of Pain

THE CENTURIES OF PAIN

We see the native go his way

So listless, sad and poor.

A copper corpse that’s tumbled up

along a shrouded shore.

Too often as we watch him bend

beneath his piteous yoke,

we call him ‘Noble Red skin’

and mean it as a joke.

Too often we just see the crust

Of sickness, dirt and sin,

and never try to seek the soul

that flickers there within.

How can we know the tears that flood

the centuries of pain?

How can we know the awful loss

of mountain, wood and plain?

How can we know the losing fight

against foul greed and lust?

How can we know the pledge betrayed

the ever broken trust?

For locked up in the native mind,

behind his cryptic eyes

there lives the cold pained memory

of Mother Earth’s lost Paradise.

A Paradise of wood and hill,

Of river, lake and stone,

whose dwellers only asked they

be left at peace – alone.

The other younger races

who came from Europe’s shores

to ‘civilize the savages’,

Ah well, they did their chores.

With bullet, gun and bottle,

with slippery tongue and pen

they robbed him of his Heaven on Earth,

for they were civilized men.

Oh, someday when all ‘Rights and wrongs!’

are balanced on the beam

there may be judgement to repay,

the theft of natives’ dreams.

Meanwhile a sorry folk we are,

Who do not seem to care,

that our red brother prostrate lies

because we put him there….

From the book 'The Way Called Beautiful' by Helen Bird  - available on amazon.com thewaycalledbeautiful

                           'Tears of Yellow Cloud' mixed media on canvas by Helen Bird 

#NativeAmerican #poetry #helenbird #art #biography

Continued excerpt from 'The Way Called Beautiful' by Helen Bird

THE YOUNG WARRIOR - PART TWO

The man watched as they brought the sleeping warrior and then he disappeared.

He walked away, vanished just as quickly as he had appeared to the people...

It was a young red woman who ran after that man, only to return badly frightened as she pointed to over there upon Mother our beautiful earth's sacred and powerful white shawl...

                                   

The walking mans' tracks had become hoof prints, much as those of our four legged relatives, the deer...

This is a true happening that took place during the occupation of Wounded Knee, as the white man had chased the warrior deep in to a blizzard, deep in to the inescapable ravines of the Badlands...

The warrior returned home one year later with lungs infected from pneumonia and medicine men drew fluids from his chest ceremoniously with the eagle bone...

The young warrior knew life had come to him under that snow laden cedar tree...

In a dream a deer came to him, stood watching him and in his own tongue he beseeched the help from our four legged relative...

It was granted.

Today, he walks proudly in the knowledge that his ancestors' ways are true, and yet…

He is saddened that so many children are lost to these sacred ways.

The federal agents never recovered that young warriors sacred lodge and

...Yes, they still chase him....

                                                          Illustration by Zawanquit

BOOK/EBOOK NOW AVAILABLE ON amazon.com thewaycalledbeautiful by Helen Bird

#thewaycalledbeautiful #NativeAmericanLiterature #helenbirdart 

No One Knows

Excerpt from The Way Called Beautiful' by Helen Bird 

"Long before the coming of our revised history stood a unique red man of great mystery.

He stands patiently waiting by your tipi entrance.

He knows every beat of our red peoples' hearts.

His hair is braided long with care. The color of his skin is deep copper.

He is the first red man uniquely apart.

I call him 'Wau-See-Turr', for no one really knows his name.

He was the first red man to walk upon this sacred land.

How this red man died??? No one will ever know!

Wau-See-Turr entered in to sacred spirit sky world.

A sacred place for 'nishnaubeh' (red person), that Our 'Kish-Shamm-Manitou' (Creator)

had planned.

Wau-See-Turr was all alone over there and he was lonely being the very first!

He spoke to Kish-Shamm-Manitou and Kish-Shamm-Manitou answered his request...

That for all time, to the last red person's spirit, Wau-See-Turr would enter and depart

from the sacred spirit place in the sky, to guide all his people's from down here to up there.

They have gone, never, ever to depart from up high.

Wau-See-Turr...You have heard our cries of misery and you have answered from that

place over there in eternity.

Wau-See-Turr...

Your nishnaubeh path is deeply trodden by red man nations come from down here below.

You have answered our many calls of miseries, when we feared to be lost to some other eternity...

He stands waiting patiently by your tipi entrance, fanning Kish-Shamm-Manitou's

mighty spotted eagles' feathers.

His sacred song is final farewell to world down here, as you dance upon deeply trodden path, hand in hand together.

Over there, high upon the banks of eternity, Wau-See-Turr points to our beloved ancestors singing to us...

"Wau-See-Turr

Wau-See-Turr

Wau-See-Turr..."

They are calling all of...Us!!!"

Within this great mystery, this man was given many ways how it would be...

With warriors, childrens' that belong to these warriors, the once was warriors…

Our most respected elders, they all feel this sacred vision of our Spirit Guide Sky Walker

He will be the very last to enter in to our place given to us by Kish-Shamm-Manitou.

That sacred place we call spirit sky world where our ancestors call to us always.

Book/ebook available on amazon.com thewaycalledbeautiful by Helen Bird

    

                                              PENCIL DRAWING BY ZAWANQUIT

#THEWAYCALLEDBEAUTIFUL #HELENBIRDART

Excerpt from 'The Way called Beautiful' by Helen Bird

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO THE DISPLACED, THE DISENFRANCHISED, THE INDIGENOUS OF THE WORLD…

ALL THOSE AFFECTED BY GREED AND OPPRESSION.

PROLOGUE

The truth…

It will always find you…

When you least expect it and more importantly when you need to hear it the most.

I had fallen off the mad hamster wheel of western thinking, materialism and illusions of wealth disguised as debt and addiction…and I fell hard, only to find myself facing a fork in the dusty road of life. Rabbit holes…

I had a choice…I could continue down the God forsaken path of self- destruction and circle the drain or I could veer sharply on to the freeway of selfless enlightenment, shedding old ways and old skin, abandoning the stinking thinking of capitalistic shackles and shattered dreams.

As I wandered cold and hungry through a damp mist turning quickly to heavy rain, I stumbled upon a box.

A non-descript box tossed carelessly near a dumpster.

It looked no more than the garbage it was destined for.

Yet, somehow I was moved…compelled to dig deep in to that box, under already soggy papers and elderly yellowed sheet music, only to find at the very bottom, a treasury of words.

Words of hope and inspiration…

Words I so desperately needed at this point in time….

I saw in front of my very eyes a sacred task, one that was willed to me on that dreary day…a unique task of rescue… to repair and preserve the words of those that should never be lost and forgotten.

Who or what guided me towards that abandoned box???

Unseen forces, the ancestors beyond the veil and the great spirit of a proud Native American warrior…

His name is Zawanquit…

‘Yellow Cloud’

And this is his life….

AVAILABLE NOW ON AMAZON.COM THE WAY CALLED BEAUTIFUL

Excerpt from 'The Way Called Beautiful' by Helen Bird Now available on amazon.com / Kindle version too....the way called beautiful

THE WAY CALLED BEAUTIFUL 

"They came from many directions....

  Legions upon legions of them....

  They danced, they sang, they fought....

  They finally left in total rejection....

  She stood silently reiterating....

  Her many facades she chose to act.....

  It was many years later when age had come

  To claim the beauty from her life....

 

  Again she heard them approaching from

  Far, far away in the distance.....

  Yes, they stopped and stood

  Before the entrance of her sacred lodge....

  How long they remained standing this way

  No one will ever know

 

  It was another day she heard

  the footsteps coming

  Nearer and nearer towards her....

  Yes, they walked right over her,

  And they kept on walking away from her.....

  In this life our ancestors walked

  also in that sacred manner....

  They considered Mother, Our beautiful

  Earth not as a means to lay abuse

  But as a means to love and understand life.....

  Your Rainbow ones up there blend together…..

   The Way called Beautiful.