Native American Long Ago

09/16/2025

Mother Bear’s Whisper

Little one, walk close to me,
your paws are small, yet meant to be free.
The world is heavy, the nights grow long,
but in my heart, you are always strong.

I carry your spirit, I guard your name,
no voice can silence, no loss can tame.
Each step we take upon this land,
is written in love, by Creator’s hand.

They tried to steal, they tried to bind,
the light of children, the sacred kind.
But hear me now — you are not alone,
every child matters, every child comes home.

So walk beside me, beneath the skies,
your laughter echoes, your spirit flies.
My cub, my heart, forever true,
I wear this orange, in honor of you.

09/16/2025

She Who Walks with Wings

She walks beneath the ancient sun,
not casting a shadow,
but carrying light
woven from the songs of her grandmothers.

Her cloak—no cloth,
but wings of the Monarch,
soft like prayer,
strong like memory.

Around her, the butterflies rise,
as if the ancestors remembered
the way back home—
through her breath, through her step.

She does not fly.
She becomes the flight.
And in the silence,
the land remembers her name.

🎨: Serin Alar

09/16/2025

I Wear Orange for the 215

I wear orange, a flame of grief,
a cloth of sorrow, a vow, belief.
For 215 small voices stilled,
for dreams unspoken, hopes unfulfilled.

Taken away, their laughter torn,
from roots of love they should have worn.
The earth still whispers where they lie,
the stars remember every cry.

I wear orange so truth may rise,
so silence breaks, so no disguise.
For every child who never came home,
their spirits walk, we are not alone.

The drum still beats, the prayers still flow,
through every river, the children know.
I wear orange, I promise this:
to honor their lives, their stolen bliss.

09/15/2025

Voices in the Feathers

They took your names,
but not your songs.
They tried to silence your steps,
but the Earth still remembers.

A thousand feathers
rise with the wind—
each one a child,
each one a story
too sacred to forget.

Bears still guard the woods,
dreams carved in their fur,
and in the orange dawn
your laughter
returns like birds
to an open sky.

Every child matters.
Not just in memory—
but in the way
we carry you forward,
in truth,
in fire,
in love.

09/15/2025

Wounded Knee memorial riders on route to Wounded Knee Photo by Ken Marchionno

09/15/2025

Bison running through the snow.
Photo credit: National Geographic

09/15/2025

Welcome to one of the wealthiest locations in the world, Oglala Lakota Territory. Perhaps you have heard the opposite. It is often reported that places like the Pine Ridge Reservation and Rosebud Reservation are the poorest counties in the United States.
While this statistic might be accurate through the lens of capitalism, it is far from the truth. As Lakota people, we don't define our wealth by how much we store up but by how much we give away.
Our culture, lifeways, kinships, and connection to Uŋčí Makȟá can not be measured in dollars and cents. The life of a Lakota is a hard life but a good life!

09/14/2025

We need a big Aho! 🧡
Lily Gladstone and and Every Child Matters 🧡🧡
On September 30, we wear orange to remember Phyllis’ story and the 150,000 Indigenous children like her who were taken from their families, communities, and cultures.
I Wear Orange For My Every Child Matters❤️
You can buy that Shirt.🧡
❤️I think you will be proud to wear this T-shirt:"👇
🛒 Order from here 👇👇
https://www.nativepridestores.com/everychild80

​

09/14/2025

09/13/2025

The Birds’ Prayer

The birds lift songs into the sky,
wings trembling with dreams that never die.
They sing of freedom, pure and bright,
of love that warms the darkest night.

Their voices weave a sacred plea,
for every child on earth to be—
embraced by kindness, free from pain,
to dance in sunlight, safe from chain.

Oh little ones, so strong, so true,
these songs are prayers, a gift for you.
You are deserving, each and all,
to rise like birds, to never fall.

09/13/2025

Breath of Mother Earth

The girl lifts her face,
welcoming the pure breeze,
fragrance of flowers mingling with birdsong,
her heart beating gently with the rhythm of the earth.

Mother Earth extends unseen arms,
embracing each breath, each strand of drifting hair.
She listens to the whispers of streams,
to the forest calling from a thousand years past.

Each inhale — a gift of strength,
each exhale — a prayer of gratitude.
She smiles,
as if she has become part of the soil,
part of the sky,
eternal, free.

🎨: Serin Alar

09/13/2025

Mama Bear’s Message

Little ones, my cubs so dear,
Gather close and always hear:
Love each other, hand in hand,
Share your hearts across the land.

The forest thrives when spirits care,
When kindness lingers in the air.
Give your strength, your joy, your song,
Together, you will grow up strong.

Remember this, wherever you go,
The seeds of love will always grow.
For nothing shines, both near and far,
Like the bond of who you are.