Saturday, November 5, 2022

Mississippi Indian Mound

Seeing an Indian Mound

In my dream

Mississippi in the 1960's

A dusty, dry hill with arrowheads


A Deep South US pyramid

Holding dead bodies like King Tut’s

Buried with pets and weapons


An Native American Mound

An earthen storage space 

Who built this mound of

Mother Earth? Why?


Seems some mounds were flat-topped stages

Elevated ceremonial platforms for rituals

Huge earthen, sacred geometric shapes

Some looked like animals, snakes, birds

Tombs for bones of important people

Some temples, open plazas

Areas for council meetings
Chiefs and priests

The building of mounds

Stopped around the time of

European colonialization


My dream shifted 

Trolls and faeries approached 

Telling me: 'You don’t belong here'


I am attracted to dark, wet

Forests with sprites, flying

Spirits and magical elves 

Bouncing from one branch to another

Creating a cauldron, mixing magick


Our white ancestors stole so much property

From indigenous people, wiping out  

Native Americans 

These European white people 

Pioneered their greed, ravaging 

Human beings, women and children

Stealing and killing, pushing them westward


Jolting genocide


Looking back at one past life, my 

Indian Princess Warrior Woman

Strong, bold, solid and protective

She would have killed some of 

My white ancestors

(Not one for lying down and being cowardly)

She and I would have tried to wipe out these men

Who tried to rape us (and our children)

Who set fire to our tepees

Who told us we were animals and scum

We, too, shot arrows through their hearts

We, too, took our hatchets 

Slicing their scalps, claiming corpses

Dragging them behind our fast horses

Throwing them into a pile of 

Other corpses, murderers, savages


Who are the sinners and 

Who belongs to the Beloved community?

I have played both parts

And lots of roles in between


Lots of blood on my hands

Lots of love in these hands, too

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