Back in the day, everyone, our ancestors, our predecessors had long hair. Today, I see my generation moving into this western world of “professionalism” and cutting off all their hair. I assume they are in mourning and come to find that they did it because they are “professional.” In our way, cutting of the hair meant mourning a lost loved one who has left to the spirit world. Though not all Indigenous had this tradition. Continue reading
I am past pain. My body is heavy and broken I can no longer even cry out. The darkness blankets me like a fog pulling me down. It is so cold. Continue reading
I do not feel the pain of impact. A mental count, I took down four of the enemy when I landed.
Grabbing a nearby rock in one hand and a knife from the enemy below me I continue my attack. Continue reading
I am sure they can hear my ragged breath and pounding heart. I am afraid.
Can they smell my fear?
My heart is pounding I can feel all the fear, and resentment merging, growing, becoming beyond my control. In this moment I am a warrior. I want this fight. Even if I die here, they will remember me. Continue reading
Slipping into the shadows, the forest encloses us in its protective darkness. A sigh of relief escapes my lips, just a moment before the cry of alarm reaches my ears. For a just one moment, we are all struck with panic. Continue reading