Cree Poem 1.10.2013 neal mcleod

kinêhiyawiwinanâw tâpiskoc misi-iskôtêw, ka-kâh-kwâhkotêk iskwâyikohk ê-kîsikohk, ê-sâpo-kwâhkotêk kahkiyaw kiyâski-akohpa.
our creeness is like a great fire that burns to the stretch of the sky, and burns through all blankets of lies.

ê-yahkâtihkâtêhk, osihcikâtêk tâpwêwinâhk, itê ka-kiskwayahk kôhkomiwênanâw êkwa mîna kimosômiwênanâw.
the hole being made larger, for the creation of landscapes of truth, where we clothe ourselves in sound of our grandmothers and grandfathers

kiyayawinanâw kîhtwâm kispwawipayiki kîtwam,
our beings become warm again,

tâpiskôc osk-osihcikâtêkwa acahkosa.
like new born stars.

[Aaron Paquette:Moondance http://www.aaronpaquette.net/?p=399]

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