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for us
    and when you learn how to do that good
    your grandfather will come
    and show you how to hunt.”
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    me I never forgot that
    and I learned to be a fire-keeper
    before I learned to hunt and trap and net
    that’s how the teachin’s work, my boy
    learn them slow and they become you
    and you in turn become them too
    more Anishinabeg, more Injun, more human being
    and by the time you turn around on that path
    to look back on where you come that’s when you get to see
    that you learned the biggest thing first
    to care for people
    to light a fire in the night
    for them to follow home
    and us we’re all the same us people
    guess we’re all Injun that way us humans
    we tend to that one heartbeat that joins us up
    like we tend a fire to keep our people warm
    and fed and happy
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    the teachin’s are the same for all of us
    one heartbeat, one fire
    callin’ us home, see

Born Again Indian
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    each morning he lights the sacred medicines
    in the abalone bowl and walks
    every inch of his home with blessings
    and prayers for peace and prosperity
    health and well-being and with gratitude
    for everything that already is
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    he eases the sacred smoke over everything
    the drum, the rattle, the rocks
    and everything he’s collected
    that reminds him of the relationship
    he has with Earth —  Aki in his talk
    and thanks her for her blessings
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    standing at the window that overlooks
    the lake nestled in the cut of mountains
    he feels the sky holding it all in place
    and the land singing in its grasp
    so that when he closes his eyes he feels
    the notes trill within him
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    now and then he goes to the sweat lodge
    to sing and meditate and pray and maybe
    cry for things that continue to hurt
    and to feel the waves of that ancient heat
    purify, rejuvenate and elevate him
    to a state where he can carry on
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    he doesn’t dance, doesn’t carry a pipe
    or wear his hair in braids or a pony tail
    or adorn his truck or hats or home
    with displays of eagle feathers, buffalo skulls
    or the ceremonial trappings that have come
    to mean native pride these days
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    instead there’s prayer ties in the corners of the
    four directions of his home and a pair of blankets
    elders wrapped his wife and him within one time
    when they brought stories back to the people
    that visitors wrap about themselves and feel
    the sacred nature of that gift
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    he’s got an Indian name and he carries teachings
    that elders gifted him with on his travels
    and he passes those teachings on in the work he does
    because they told him that this is how you honour
    the gifts that come to you and make you
    bigger inside, stronger somehow and proud
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    so he goes about the process of being Indian
    oblivious to fashion and any need to present
    an image of himself with books or art or relics
    because he’s learned to carry ancient paintings
    splashed on the caverns of his being
    and be content in the knowledge that they’re there
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    and all of that’s funny because in the beginning
    when he finally made it home
    and surrounded himself with Indian things
    and learned to talk his talk and walk
    a ceremonial road and dance and sing and pray
    his own people laughed and called him a Born Again
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    those voices hurt and cut him deep with shame
    and a sense of guilt that he hadn’t learned
    anything about himself while he was growing up
    even though they knew he’d been swept away
    and made to live alone with his skin
    in a world that was not his own
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    so when he made it back against all odds
    he wanted this living connection to who he was
    so desperately that he celebrated openly
    letting the joy he felt flow outward
    in the dances, songs and ceremonies and the hair
    he grew out and braided to honour all he’d learned
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    but they laughed and called him Born Again
    because he fumbled with the pipe and struggled
    to pronounce his name and pray