Surrender?

Surrender?
Mary Black Bonnet

(For:"Inala" SBC)

I want to engulf you,
in bubble wrap.

Carry you gently.

Not because you are fragile or weak.
Anything but.

Rather Immense in your sacredness, wisdom
spirit and kindness.

All we need to be.

Some strive for it,
others look on.
Their insecurities flashing, blinding their vision;
sunbeams on a car bumper.

As they cruise into the sunset
too young to care for this moment.

They don't see what lies ahead.

Acculturation.
Assimilation.
In its worst form.

Strong Proud warriors,
now common sheep.
The hard fought battle
can't be over!
Not yet. Not like this.

This war has been too long,
claimed victims too many, brought victories too few.

For a flip of the hair,
the boom-boom of bass
in a hot rez rod.

As they leave their
Proud, mutilated, Beautiful, culture
in the rear view mirror.

When the dust clears,
a raw, gaping hole left in its wake.

As they wave to us,
from the other side of the glass.

The Dark Side of December

The Dark Side of December
Mary Black Bonnet

A huge chasm flows
for Lakota between Christmas and the New Year.
The date burned into our hearts, our minds, our memories;
even if we weren't there.

December 29, 1890.

When the snow was stained
with the blood of the helpless.

If you're quiet, you can hear the screams of terror,
the terrified cries of innocent babies, the trampling feet.
The horrific deafening Gun shots;
the thud of bodies.
The bitter snow underneath, as souls left bodies;
only to be bound to earth.

If you're not sickend,
you're not paying attention.

Celebrate your holidays,
ring in your new year.
But send a prayer, a song,
a whisper up, for lives lost.
Heinously, wrongly,
and forever.

The Visit

The Visit
Mary Black Bonnet


Turkey Day plus two,
you walked into my dream.
Apologizing your tardiness,
you were checking on the kids.

We talked, laughed,
I almost forgot you were dead.

We watched someone’s children playing outside,
you told me to be careful, they’d need me.

Your meaning slipped by me at the time,
then the boys came.

My precursor to mother hood.


I remember the day you died…
the deep, gut- level, body wracking sobs
that only come from true sorrow.

The way I hid in my truck,
cried myself into a state of sleep.

Not caring if I ever woke up.

We gathered together again
and found resolve to somehow go on.
Knowing if we gave up,
you’d be pissed.

I left for my own house that night,
completely spent and numb.
I saw you walking down the road..
you smiled and waved.

And I knew you were home.