I don’t walk toward death.
I walk towards my fellas’ needs,
Towards the kids in their beds,
Towards the thin line that’s left.
I’m not craving an ending.
I’m 55, but I’m stubborn, so I’m here again,
Backdooring it through “Warriors of Light”
Yeah, I am stubborn as allllll fuck sometimes,
Just so I can again mother-hen my better m8’s
Who insist on calling me, “Cappy Gut-Check”
When I’m nothing but a SSgt now, and I love being
One of the guys again instead of one of the bossy ones.
If it’s my time,
The Picker of the Berries will know.
Not me, I’m… we’re not meant to know.
Not even the berries on our same bunch.
Only The Hand That Feels What Is Ripe knows,
Knowing when to pick us, the saskatoons,
Into Their basket, on a trip to make their very
Own wasna in The Place Beyond the Pines,
The Southlands, like the BEST eternal summer-camp,
Where the game is plentiful, just like the berries, and
Every night, each person has a campfire, and we
Become multilocational, visiting as many other
Campfires as we want all at the same time, and
We will tell each other all our stories of our time
Here on Grandma Earth, but we will also make new
Myths in The Southlands, new stories to tell around
Our campfires, and we will drum, and play acoustic
Instruments, never missing a note, no timing errors
In The Southlands, and we will sing our songs, and
No one will every need sleep, and the nights around
Our mutual campfires will last one billion years if
We want them to… creator lets us play ’round with time,
After such a long-time-made-short being bound by it,
They let time suit us after a lifetime of it binding us,
And this may seems like a foolish fairy tale to many,
But I don’t care about that… I’ve lost 7 women that I’ve loved
More than life itself, and in loving some of them, especially
Those with the funny last names and the wrong colour skin
We paid many costs, but fuck all of ’em, I never needed either
The racists or the cold-hearts anyway; they were never friends.
My wives and three daughters gone; there is a special pain when
Your children outlive you… it is against the natural order of
Things, and if believing in The Southlands makes me a fool
And a child, so be it. I NEED it, I NEED that, I NEED to just
Believe I’ll see them again, even if just for 5 minutes, to get
In the goodbye that wars do not allow for, I NEED that shit,
And if I’m wrong, if when my body returns to Grandma Earth,
And that’s it, that’s all, I’ll never know anyways, if it’s just
Done, so what’s the harm in believing in the fairy tales that
Keep me going, that keep me from ending it all now, huh?
But until then:
Cast no shadow.
Reflect no shine.
Project no shape.
Leave no trace.
Let them all
Watch my six as,
I watch all theirs.
Not ready to go, not yet,
Not even to my daughters,
Not even to those partners
I’ve loved much more than my life;
I’m just at peace, and ready if called,
To leave, to fight, to stay, to walk on…
We all want the same things, really,
It’s not rocket surgery, no matter who, no
Matter where in the world, and, sure, the
Greedy will always want far more, but the
Rest of us, the majority of the planet, we all
Want: Home, Family, Friends, Meaningful work,
A little leisure time to sit back and take it all in, and
Show our gratitude with the creative spark we are
All gifted, for creator made us like them, and they
Are truly defined by what they have created, so let
Us write our scribbles, babble our messages, sing our
Songs, and play them, too, paint, sketch, do anything,
Do everything, just leave behind cool shit that tells
The world: I Was Here. Yeah, it’s not asking too
Much. Not at all. I asked my Kuku Weayaya once,
After her pregnant daughter, my first wife, walked
On by her own hand, and I wasn’t just despairing of
That, though I surely was… seeing the love of your
Entire life, your perfect partner, take their own life,
And your five month-old fetus, but she was a baby to
Me, she swam around and kicked and punched her
Mama in the kidneys and bladder, but only for certain
Songs… I always held my classical acoustic with those
Soft sounding nylon strings right up to her mama’s
Belly, and she DID have her favourites, she didn’t
Just swim-dance for any old song I sang and played,
She had preferences, and if that doesn’t make for a
Real child, well fuck me, then I do not know what does.
And I’d cry, way back, it was 1999, a different millennia
Ago, but I despaired as I saw the writing on the wall,
Us destroying our ecological surroundings, the very
Beginning of life on coral reefs going bleached, we
Were running out of EVERYTHING that’s needed
For all our modern conveniences that we will kill,
And, oh yes, also die for… why would anyone ever
Take from Grandma Earth more than they could ever
Possibly use? Fuck unregulated capitalism, I’m taking about
Civilization here, sustainability, because an economic system that
DEMANDS constant growth, like a shark in the water,
How it dies if it stops moving, that irresistible force,
Well, Grandma Earth’s resources are finite, so what
Will happen when that irresistible force meets the
Immovable object of finite resources while we fully
Destroy our ecosystem; do we really need to make the
Equation that much more complicated? I’ll tell ya what… a
Nuclear exchange between India and Pakistan, that
Isn’t an if, that is a when, because all the irreplacable
Glacier shelves are gonna be gone, that what feeds the
Ganges, and the Nile, and the Rhein, and all the other
Major rivers, they start from those glaciers high, high up in
The mountains, that when Pakistan takes all the water
Because a man who can’t feed his family has nothing
Left to lose, India will have so many starving, the first
Of only many, MANY great Water Wars to come in the
Decades soon to come, because it’s the same in India;
Because a man who can’t feed his family has nothing
Left to lose, and on and on and on it will go, Oh Kuku,
Oh Wiȟópeča Wímahéliyáya, you who have now set,
Oh Weayaya, most beautiful of sunsets under horizon,
What will become of us? Is this the end coming? Is this
The Great Day of Silence soon to fall on civilization,
If not to fall even on the whole of our species, leaving
The Earth to the walking whales and the talking dolphins
After they get a few hundred million years, because we
Were given our chance and we fucked it all up? We
Were given more than enough; you’re my kuku, but you’re
One of the aunties, and one of the Knowledge Keepers,
Too… can you, are you allowed to, tell me what will
Happen, when things get increasingly bad, long after
You’re now gone, what will I do, what will we do, how can
One person like me even help? I don’t see any hope at all
For us… please tell me what you know, even if it’s scary,
I’d rather know than not know, please, Kuku, tell me??
“Oh, my chee-kshee, do not fall into despair, all these years, and
You haven’t been listening, not to me and not to our prophets
Either… it will be my ákta tȟakóža, and I know you don’t
Think this will happen, but you will love again, chee-kshee.
And it is that generation, the Seventh Generation after the
Prophecy was made, it will be their task to clean up all the
Mess we made, but they won’t need to heal Grandma Earth;
Haven’t you been listening, not to me, and not to our prophets?
All we need to do is leave Grandma Earth alone, stop taking
From her and giving not a single back to her, when giving we
Know that isn’t the way of things, that isn’t how we’d treat
One of our elders, is it? To take and take and take much more
That isn’t what we do in our nation, is it, Napȟáyšni my son?
No it isn’t? So, we don’t have to heal her, we just need to leave
Her alone, and she will heal herself, though we will have a
Choice to make; start living with what we need rather than
What we want… no more Musks, no more Bezos, no more…
Or we shall all end up dead. There is plenty for all, if we follow
The ways of the ancestors, and never take more than we can
Use… this only makes sense. The way of trillionaires is fully
Insane, and means death to our entire species.” But what can I
Do Kuku? “Do what you’re doing, fight when you need to, try
To spread reason, and control that temper of yours. Don’t kill
Unless you just have no other choice. And when the Seventh
Generation, your tȟakóža, when it comes their time, if you
Still live, then show your are truly worthy of your spirit name.
That you are Possessing-of-Courage-Never-To-Flee, and ask
Them, “What do you need from me to help you in your work?”
And give them anything at all you need, and you will have
Done the job that you were meant to do. And, please, please,
My chee-kshee, stop fretting so; grieve for one year, as is our
Way, and then make the decision to end your mourning, for it
Doesn’t just end on it’s own… you will otherwise grieve forever
For in the end, you have to make a decision, saying, okay now,
My time of grief for my daughters, my wives, is over now, and
Then we will finish the ceremony, take their soul bundles from
From your heath, and bring it home, so they can say forever more,
“Waŋblí-Pahá él thípi, Eagle Butte is where I now rest. Do
You understand, Napȟáyšni?” Yes, Wiȟópeča Wímahéliyáya,
Most beautiful or setting suns, and not my Kuku, your are my Iná.
And so it is:
Cast no shadow.
Reflect no shine.
Project no shape.
Leave no trace.
Let them all
Watch my six as,
I watch all theirs..
