Mató Pahá (Bear Mountain)

We fell asleep to the low call of the cows
and awoke to the sky on fire, electric,
sheltered by tent fabric so thin
I too shook
in the wind.

“They tell us we are outnumbered,”
Tiokasin Ghosthorse says,
“But I’m not outnumbered.

We have around us
all
these
trees

and every
blade

of grass.”

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