Niiyaw
to the very blood & bone
we are connected,
two hands
in the same river,
feeling the flow
of fresh water,
the pulse
of the heartbeat
like a powwow drum
steady we row, we walk,
we stand on sacred shorelines,
the ones our Grandmothers
mourned from, the place
where stories
flew like gulls,
swam like walleye,
soared like a great eagle
on the day of battle
to our cores we are rattled,
turtle shell &
chattering teeth,
grinding our
Jennifer Patino
medicine, holding
our tongues
& the hearts
of our women
so that nothing
of the Earth
shall ever fall
like tears upon
excavated graves again
this is not our end,
our defeat, our surrender,
this is our worship,
our war cry,
our purification
of the oil
they pumped into our souls
this is how we survive,
in thanking our waters,
Great Mystery, our breath –
this is how we
bless life.
- ‘my body’ in Ojibwemowin
PERSEPHONE LITERARY MAGAZINE
06
POETRY