A Dream and a Poem

Boozoo! (Greetings!) Mko Mose Indizhnikaz (My spirit name is Bear Walker), Meshekenh n'doodem (I am Turtle Clan), D'eshkan Ziibi n'doonjiba. Anishinaabe, O'jibii'igay inini n'dow (I am an Anishinaabe Ojibway man). My English name is Andrew Judge.

Recently I had a dream. In the dream I was standing in a massive cave. There, before me, was a cenote, a large lake of crystal-clear water. The cave was illuminated and the water sparkled. High above the massive lake was a giant land bridge. It spanned the entire width of the cave. I had a sword in my hand. I was on a mission. A mission to slay a dragon. Suddenly, a massive white dragon appeared from the darkness beyond. It was flying, fast, directly toward me, like at an unbelievable speed. It flew under that land bridge and came only feet from the water's surface, flying so fast it caused a massive wake to rise behind. I had no time to react, only watch, in silence, as the pure white dragon sped ever closer. I accepted my fate, but instead of devouring me, in the split second before it hit me, it flew straight up. The force of its speed slung me flying into the wall behind me. I awoke.

Several days later I gathered with a group of dreamers. Two women had recently returned from Hawaii, where they participated in ceremony with a Hawaiian Kahuna. The ceremony was at a mountain and intended to awaken the white dragon, which for them was the water within the mountain that had stopped flowing for many years. The people forgot to honor the dragon. During this ceremony an ancient woman channeled through the Kahuna. She asked that the men immediately leave, not just the ceremony, but the whole area. This was necessary for the women to do the work to reawaken the waters to reawaken the white dragon. The men could only hold space from a distance away. When they were invited to return they were asked to bow before the women, to honor them and their scared connection to the waters. All of this was done so that the Hawaiian people of the region could reestablish their traditional planting practices. Since that time, the water has begun again to flow.

It is at this time that we must all support the important work of the women so that we can transmute the memories of the water to cleanse the earth.

Finally, I wrote this poem to my love and as a tribute to the mide waabo (sacred waters). For it is the sacred waters that flow within the earth, that is the same as the blood running through our veins.

What does a hummingbird feelWhen she suckles sweet pollenDo her wings slowever so subtlyHer way to give thanksin bloomDoes she make a small offeringperhaps a seed, water, or featherBetter still,what if her whole lifeis one enormous offeringa tributeTo the brothers and sisters of Roses

There is said to be these electromagnetic lineswaves of energy surrounding the earthBirds use them to navigate the landBut I don't believe that thoughI don't believe those lines existnot separate from the mastery of birdsI believe it is their memoriesMemories of their ancestorsfloating throughout the skyand just like the songs they singThe birds simply rememberThe ancient song and dance of their mothers

A loon song carries far across the lakehaunting like a howling wolfSending chills through bonesHe sings one unique songA song only one other loon can singHis partner is for life

They sing songs togetherBut their one song is saved for special momentsEventually they reach their final dayWhen two united loons return their feathersNew loons come to claim the lakeYet never having heard it beforeThat one songThe song of the lakeis sung again

And so it is and so it's beenThe hummingbird makes her offerings