Daisy pinched her cheeks as she sat on the bench- waiting,~ and waiting. She stared at the large screen that showed the different colour markers & points of the various train routes. ‘‘Where was the train she needed to head back home?’’ She thought to herself.

Just as she got ready to close her eyes for a short nap, she heard the familiar sound of the train moving on the tracks and the sound of the powerful engine. Her heart beat fast. She did not want to miss her train!

She rose to her feet & quickly grabbed her luggage. The train came to a halt and she soon heard the conductor shout: ‘‘Get on ‘board!’’

Daisy dashed toward the train & hopped on. She slowly moved along the side of the path next to the reserved seats. Once she found a spot to seat past the reserved section, she crashed onto the leather seat. She was ready to sleep all the way to her final destination.

The sudden break on the tracks startled Daisy. She looked around wondering how long she’d been in dreamland.

Without even trying to ask where she was, Daisy decided to grab her luggage from the bottom of her seat— ready to disembark the train.

She managed to carefully use the steps & hop onto the sandy ground. Daisy heard the crunch of something below her feet. She looked down and spotted fragments of something brighly glowing in the sand.

Daisy bent down to examine the materials in the sand a bit closer. With her free hand, she picked up a tiny piece of the material to take an even much closer look.

She gasped. Was this the precious stone that she had heard stories about from her parents when she was a kid? She shook her head. That was not right. Her home town was not known to have such resources.

Daisy dropped the precious stone & wiped her hand on her ankle length pleated skirt. She stopped to really take a better look around her. The moment she did, she dropped to her knees and she shook her head: ‘‘What town is this?’’

She began to panic and turned around to see if the train was not too far away. But the train was gone. Well, actually there were no train tracks anywhere she tried to peer.

Daisy squinted her eyes and waved her free hand in the air. She couldn’t see a thing. This place wherever she was had such thick fog.

The only thing that she could spot from where she was were some lights. She scurried toward them.

When she was near the lights, the fog started to clear. Her eyes came to view a town with creatures that were all seemed to be busy. She spotted a toad wearing a giant yellow coat by a stand. The toad croaked & bellowed: ‘‘Why are all the oranges gone? Who bought the last ones?’’

Was this some kind of open market? She stood and blinked her eyes in awe. This was probably not real. She closed her eyes & counted backwards from 34 to 1. (That was how far she could manage to count backwards, for now).

She was about to finish counting backwards when she heard another croak & bellow: ‘‘You whatever you are~ don’t just stand there with your eyes closed! Did you buy the last oranges?’’

Daisy opened her eyes and blinked again. She pointed to herself, & looked to her left and right. The toad hopped toward her. She wanted to run, but it seemed as if her legs were not ready to do that.

The toad stared at Daisy as soon as he was right in front of her. She cleared her throat ready to speak..the toad interrupted her- ‘‘Oh my...You’re a human. What are you doing in our town? Go back to your own realm!’’

Daisy could not understand what that meant. Had she traveled here by some kind of magic? Then it came back to her in a flash, she had not paid attention when she boarded the train.

She reached into her bag & found what her train ticket. Daisy’s hand trembled. On her ticket the route number was: 13. The train she needed to take was route 31. How did make such a silly mistake of purchasing the wrong ticket route?

The toad watched Daisy. She looked as if she had heard news that someone was sick. Daisy stared at the toad & quietly asked: ‘‘How do I get back home?’’

#13 (C) 15.08.2021

The more I realize that wisdom and age don't go hand in hand, in fact they don't even walk on the same street, it's as if wisdom wandered off to go buy some new socks while age has run off with a windshield wiper blade salesman from Topeka and wouldn't recognize wisdom from a police lineup, even if the cops cleared their throat while muttering "Suspect number two" under a pretend cough to coax the right response.

The spring in your step

The gleem in your eye

And it's not that hard

To Understand why

Everybody

Needs Love

The sound of your voice

The joy on your face

It's a feeling that's kind

of hard to replace

Everybody

Needs Love

We go so good together

The stars are shining bright

When you put your arms around me

I know that everythings alright

The birds and the bees

the Sun in the sky

You stand close to me

I feel butterflies

Everybody

Needs Love

We go so good together

The stars are shining bright

When you put your arms around me

I know that everythings alright

The spring in your step

The gleem in your eye

And it's not that hard

To Understand why

Everybody

Needs Love

"Who did you vote for?"

"It's none of your f'n business. Why don't you and your snowflake libtard friends take a long hike off a short pier before this country goes to total shit. I'll vote for whomever the hell I choose to, damn it."

"I was talking about Dancing With The Stars, but I think you just told me who you voted for for president."

1876

Time traversed throughout the land.

It saw a people,

a Nation, pushed beyond limits.

Time would not stand still.

Pony soldiers pushed and pushed,

until blue skies turned black,

and the ground became a rust-soaked red,

and the Nation, the Lakota Sioux,

finally felt free,

vindicated,

only to face a future of destined hardship.

1890

Peace came after years of struggle.

After years of pestilence,

starvation, suffering and prayer,

only to be pushed once again.

The Lakota Sioux,

an entire Nation,

were tested beyond mortal endurance.

Again came the pony soldiers.

They took all in their slaughterhouse victory

save the Lakota’s beliefs,

and, their wisdom.

Today

The struggle for peace continues.

To attain peace,

it can only be sought through wisdom,

and wisdom comes through the strong.

One such man,

The Holder of Wisdom,

is named, Sky.

Full-blooded Lakota,

soft spoken,

his eyes are dark cesspools

as if he carries the pain of generations past,

that in his retelling,

generations to follow will remember.

His face, scarred from life,

is his testament,

his struggle to continue forward.

Still, he carries his responsibility proudly,

asking no man to share his burden.

It is he who must carry others;

fearing for others as he fears nothing,

absolving the pain of many who come before him,

while he ignores his own.

Many years ago,

Sky was taught a power

not taught to just any man.

He became The Holder of Wisdom.

He holds onto a symbol of his people,

which includes his family.

Wisdom can come by logical thinking,

or tests that say you are intelligent.

Sky’s wisdom came from another direction,

nothing a white man’s school could teach.

As a Holder of Wisdom,

he, as his ancestors before him,

prays for guidance and supplication,

understanding and knowledge,

where it cannot be easily found.

He must strip away earthly needs,

put away from his mind personal emotion,

and place himself in touch with,

at the mercy of,

or the wrath of the Great Spirit,

who has guided his people since time immortal.

Leaving behind material objects,

forsaking in time of prayer, his friends,

his work, even his family;

Sky goes to a special place

directed to him by a Hanbleceya:

Vision Quest.

No longer dressed in white man’s clothing,

he sits bronzed, naked,

save for a loin cloth.

This patch of earth,

save a small trundle of withered trees,

bares no fruit or water,

nor did he bring nourishment.

A warm breeze caresses his face,

lacing through strands of long silky hair.

All he has brought with him

is held in a brown leather pouch,

aged and darkened by time,

decorated with a now faded medicine wheel.

inside, is a pipe.

Hours pass as he just sits.

He closes his mind to the world around him

and opens his mind to the world he seeks.

A world holding sacred land,

where wisdom is found

for a seeker of truth.

The pipe is full as he lights the bowl,

inhaling the thoughts,

the souls of ages past.

Sky then blows smoke

to the four corners of the earth,

raising the pipe to the heaven’s,

making final tributes and offerings

to Mother Earth in honored respect,

which has made all things great and small.

Night comes.

He continues to pray.

He cannot sleep.

It is forbidden.

The Holder of Wisdom absorbs the pain,

even the sins of his people.

But he also takes with him,

a stronger understanding.

a deeper compassion,

and of course, wisdom.

Wisdom.

The answer to all the trials,

tribulations, fears, and failures,

that abiding love,

and a people’s Nation can continue.

When four days have passed,

Sky appears older,

but his eyes are more alive;

filled with purpose.

Replacing the pipe to its sacred pouch,

he stands,

looking at an earthly sunrise,

and prepares for his journey home.

Such a huge responsibility

Sky carries within;

for his people,

his family,

for the future of a Nation.

As he walks the long road home,

the light of day engulfing him,

no one feels the bitter-sweet tear

trickling down his face,

as does he.

Sky shoulders his pain well.

And why not?

He is, Lakota Sioux.

************************

Thus, this concludes this collection of work. I hope all who have read perhaps have a better understanding of what happened over the last 400 years and walk away a bit better than you were when you first came here.

One thing I want to say; Sky and I are best friends and true blood-brothers. He is now 88 and still does what he does.

I want to thank all of you again for stopping by, commenting, sharing your input. It has meant a great deal to me.

This video will give you a sense of what a vision looks/feels like when transported over to the other side where time and space mean nothing.

https://youtu.be/3ourewjSP-E

***************

1876 represents the aftermath of Custer’s Last Stand

1890 represents the horrendous events Wounded Knee

Hanbleceya (Han-blay-ka)

Wakan Takan kici un (wah-can ta-can-kay-see en)

May the Creator/Grandfather/Great Spirit/God, bless you.

As writer’s ...

Mitákuye Oyás’iŋ (mi-tahk-wee-a-say or

Mee-tah-koo-yay Oy-yah-seen) Kodas …

we are all related, friends.

Pilamaya (P’la my ya) ... thank you.

Love.

I

will

tell you-it’s

the way your uncle

walks faster when his husband

is home alone. how your mother sleeps

with the lights on when your dad is getting a

flight in early the next day. how your brother runs fast

when you fall over

how your friends

say: “If only you

could see you the

way we do, it’d do

amazing things for

your ego.” and the

way ’oceans never

stop kissing shores

no matter how many

times they’re sent away.’

My mind is a tidal wave of thoughts, roaring over the heavy roads until at last the engine dies. They trigger me like a gun without the bullet, observing my reaction, its damage insignificant to those around me. I am not wounded by sight, yet I feel crimson stains beneath my skin.

I am sad, I think. And yet I smile.

I am happy, I know. Yet saltwater slides over my cheeks.

Will the mind’s perplexities ever be understood as they intertwine and dig deeper into the pit of my subconscious? Thoughts hold blind control over me. I am merely the fallen apple in Newton’s theory, reacting to the forces around me. The cause of my actions reaches to my conscious, begs me to understand my own reactions.

Yet I falter in the maze of my mind. Forever I am a mystery to myself.

The option to bathe in

Golden slants of sunlight,

The choice to experience

The deepest flutters of love,

The possibility to follow a dream,

Achieving what you most long for

The privilege to just exist,

Even as a beautifully imperfect

Human

I've been lost,

lost in the darkness.

I slip between my own fingers,

loose sight of my purpose.

My thoughts overwhelm me and they take me away like a rip tide.

Taking me further and further out to sea.

Sucking me into the darkness and away from land... away from safety.

Then you come in and save me.

Everytime.

You tell me it's not a riptide,

that I can stand up and I'm not sinking

The weight of my thoughts had me gasping for air... but you breathed life back into me.

I'm grateful for having you to clasp my hand and pull me out of the deep thoughts that entrap me.

With you I'm not trapped, I'm loved, safe, and home.

I finally see the light because of your often underappreciated persistence.

You always try to love me even when I reject the affection.

My well-being often depends on you and the endless weight I carry.

You take it off of my weak shoulders and hold it all.

Maybe my weight is what makes your back spasm and bones ache.

Your pain is recorded over like a reused tape.

But each time I need you, you still re-record.