Featured Poems By Phoenix Lara
203 Issue
Who We Are
How do you want to live? What do you want to create?
All life around you listens and awaits you.
Remember the past is a way to acknowledge it.
Forgive yourself and allow yourself to be alive.
Every time you feel discouraged, think back to when you were a child. Now visit that child and go back and fight for yourself.
You can go back and rescue that little one. You know how it felt. You can let that little one know the hurt is over.
It’s been over for a long time.
By Phoenix Lara
One Bounldless Self
How boundless is the self?
Awakening each moment with an energy of joy.
Resting in the darkness of inner vastness
while rejoicing at the immenseness of our inner light,
that sparkles through our outward eyes.
Sounds surround the listener as words are released.
A key to the secret called Life.
By Phoenix Lara
Journey to the Drum
Today is Sunday
I pick up my drumstick and put on
The Original Founding Fathers" shirt
that honors our forefathers
I look at my “Indian” hat and think
Do I want to be stared at today?
Wearing my hat, carrying my drumstick
I board the train from the City to another event
that our Native women’s drum has been invited to sing and drum
I walk into the luxury hotel with plush furniture
holding on to my drumstick and fixing my hat
My Native sisters arrive, we smile and hug
Our voices are strong, and our song fills the room
Each beat reminds us why we sing
I see others who look like us, and we nod
They are a reminder of why we drum and sing
and keep the heartbeat going for generations to come
by Phoenix Lara
To My Grandmother
She looks into the distance, recalling events as if they occurred the other day.
She speaks for hours, reliving each moment through her hands and eyes.
She touches you as each word comes alive.
A glimpse of a tear slowly moves down her face as we watch in silence.
Silence fills the air, and the only sound we hear the crackling of the ice.
We pretend as if these stories are new, for they are the memories that live throughout the ages and touch each of our lives.
Flour Tortilla
Tis the season to relive the childhood memories
I recall spending time in our kitchen
The smells of home cooking my mother prepared each day
I come home from school and fresh homemade tortillas awaited
My mother would make fresh flour tortillas each day
I would be playing outside and she would yell for me to come in
I would run into the kitchen and she would hand me her first tortilla.
I would spread butter and enjoy the taste fresh off the stove
Ah the joy and memory that I long for on these cold winter days.
Each time I bit into a flour tortilla I remember the fresh hot flour tortilla
My Mother yelling for me to come and taste the first one and I would savor each one with the taste of butter..
Being Two Spirit
What does it mean to be Two Spirit?
Walking in the land of my ancestors
Walking with our hearts
Walking close to the earht
Yet hiding who we are
I go to the powow
wishing in my heart to be a switch dancer
eating fry bread and laughing
Deep in my heart
I want to walk hand in hand with my love
As we play and sing on the powwow trail
I want my love sitting behind me
as we sing and drum to honor our relatives
Two Spirit is who I am
I pick and choose which of my people to tell
My love holds me at night as I cry over comments made about who I am
I dare to put my arm around the woman who loves me
As I watch the people start
and hear the whispers in the air.
By Phoenix Lara
The Birth of a Dream
by @ Phoenix Lara
The sounds of the sea
Joyously sing touched by the sand to continue again.
A restless breeze aggressively leads a restless soul longing to breathe;
Miles away a robin sings A love of life always bring one larger seed on which to release a silent dream.
Like the sounds of the sea, I search for a freeing key.
Your body expresses a new birth; Your lips speak in new words Releasing the gifts you long for
Touching the Ground
by @ Phoenix Lara
For centuries we survived
attempts by many
to scatter us like leaves;
Leaves may fall but gather strength
as the season change.
Our feet still touch the ground;
Surviving removal of our children;
Relocation to unknow lands,
Destruction and appropriation of our ways;
Rooted to the womb of our mother,
We remember;
We live and listen to the voices of our ancestors;
For we are the fire that will never die,