NATIVE VISION: Ode to the Spirit and Native Soul by Walter Alfredo Martinez (1948-2006)

Ode to the Spirit and Native Soul by Walter Alfredo Martinez (1948-2006)

Dearest one . . .
So you have disappeared
So you have gone and left me
Here on usurped holy lands
And desecrated burial grounds
You have gone and left me dear
Like the wisp of blue smoke
Lost in the firmament
You have gone and left me dear
Graced by your mystical designs

Dearest one . . .
So you have disappeared
So you have gone and left me
Here on the crumbling ramparts
Of an expiring Twentieth Century
Crisscrossing the twisted mind
Immersed in the tortured soul
Of a dismembered and proliferating humanity!

Here down the streets
Made of asphalt and glass
In a great uproar of steel and cement
And an endless onslaught
Of faces and noises and voices
That rush through the vortex
Of my confused and bloody historical roots
Of my uprooted and hysterical drunk life
The song of this wandering half-breed
Tortured poisoned mangled half-blind
Is like the Eagle guiding the Swan
To the majestic arch of your brow

Dearest one . . .
So you have disappeared
So you have gone and left me
Like the trickle of a weary river
Lost in the blue vastness of the sea
You have gone and left me dear

All alone I have dwelled
In your moist soiled darkness
All alone I have awaited
In the spiraling echoes
Of your sweet conch shell
Circumscribed by the noble trade route
Of your glorious and clandestine enterprise

Dearest one . . .
Here almost five hundred years after
Veni vidi vici shifted you place
In a great realignment of fate
In a thunderous a clash of blood
And songs and semen for land
In and out of the ever darkest of ages
Your warriors once again people this land
Like stars the sky in the wake of the sun
And like an omniscient comet
Caressing my face in the darkness
Your voyaging soul passes through mine
Above our tenuous and tortured bloodline
Past the inexorable historical deadline
Of our true Manifest Destiny:
To mingle beneath and nourish this land
With our blood and our war weary bones
And to bloom like shoots of the sun
In festive song of corn water and lime

Dearest one . . .
So you have disappeared
So you have gone and left me
In your trails of tears and blood
Rivers of flowers and love songs!
You have gone and left me dear
Blessed by your mystical chants

Oh in time in time I will dance
And I will sing with clarity
Like an exalted Indian
Ablaze in the skies!

My long feather headdress
And my lovingly painted face
Like the fan of the luminous peacock
Will span forth to the four corners of the night!

And yes the serpent will grow wings
And it will uncoil itself in the desert dust
And it will recoil itself in the azure skies
For your arrowhead to strike its bullseye
And then form the great arch to your house
And once again you will distribute
The sweet fruits of these lands
Like the rivers distribute the earth
That flows to nourish the source of this life
That rose from the grace of the sea
To depart through your wistful pupil
In a distant reflection of magic and bliss …

O Captain! My Captain!

O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up–for you the flag is flung–for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths–for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

~ Walt Whitman

Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez (1927-2014)

“To him she seemed so beautiful, so seductive, so different from ordinary people, that he could not understand why no one was as disturbed as he by the clicking of her heels on the paving stones, why no one else’s heart was wild with the breeze stirred by the sighs of her veils, why everyone did not go mad with the movements of her braid, the flight of her hands, the gold of her laughter. He had not missed a single one of her gestures, not one of the indications of her character, but he did not dare approach her for fear of destroying the spell.”

~Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez from Love in the Time of Cholera


We the Indigenous Peoples of the world, united in the corner of our Mother the Earth in a great assembly of men of wisdom, declare to all nations:

We glory in our proud past:
when the earth was our nurturing mother,
when the night sky formed our common roof,
when Sun and Moon were our parents,
when all were brothers and sisters.
when our great civilizations grew under the sun,
when our chiefs and elders were great leaders,
when justice rules the law and its execution.

Then other peoples arrived:
thirsting for blood, for gold, for land and all its wealth,
carrying the cross and the sword, one in each hand,
without knowing or waiting to learn the ways of our worlds,
they considered us to be lower than the animals,
they stole our land from us and took us from our lands,
they made slaves of the Sons of the sun.

However, they have never been able to eliminate us.
nor to erase our memories of what we were,
because we are the culture of the earth and the sky,
we are of ancient descent and we are millions,
and although our whole universe may be ravaged,
our people will live on
for longer than even the kingdom of death.

Now, we come from the four corners of the earth,
we protest before the concerns of nations
that, “we are the Indigenous Peoples, we who
have a consciousness of culture and peoplehood
on the edge of each country’s borders and
marginal to each country’s citizenship.”

And rising up after centuries of oppression,
evoking the greatness of our ancestors,
in the memory of our Indigenous martyrs,
and in homage to the counsel of our wise elders:

We vow to control again our own destiny and
recovery our complete humanity and
pride in being Indigenous People.


* Source: Douglas E. Sanders. The Formation of the World Council of Indigenous Peoples. IWGIA Document No. 29, 1977. This declaration was agreed upon by the delegates to the first international conference of Indigenous Peoples in Port Alberni, Britisth Columbia, in 1975, which led to the establishment of the World Council of Indigenous Peoples (WCIP).

Buddha Quotes

“If you are quiet enough, you will hear the flow of the universe.”

“Those who are free of resentful thoughts surely find peace.”

“There has to be evil so that good can prove its purity above it. ”

“Better than a thousand hollow words, is one word that brings peace.”

“In separateness lies the world’s greatest misery; in compassion lies the world’s true strength.”

“In the sky, there is no distinction of east and west; people create distinctions out of their own minds and then believe them to be true.”

Change the focus of the eye…

“Change the focus of the eye.
When you have done that,
Then the end of the world as you formerly knew it will have occurred,
And you will experience the radiance of the divine presence everywhere,
Here and now.”

~ Joseph Campbell, Mythos I, Program 3
“On Being Human”

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche*

Puedo escribir los versos mas tristes esta noche.

Escribir por ejemplo: “La noche está estrellada, y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos”.

El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta.

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Yo la quise, y a veces ella también me quiso.

En las noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos
La besé tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito.

Ella me quiso, a veces yo también la quería
Cómo no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos.

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche
Pensar que no la tengo. Sentir que la he perdido.

Oír la noche inmensa, más inmensa sin ella
Y el verso cae el alma como al pasto el rocío.

Qué importa que mi amor no pudiera guardarla.
La noche está estrellada y ella no está conmigo.

Eso es todo. A lo lejos alguien canta. A lo lejos.
Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.

~Viente Poemas Del Amor 20: Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche by Pablo Neruda

*Click here for translation

O Great Spirit

O Great Spirit
Whose voice I hear in the wind.
Whose breath gives life to all the world.
Hear me.
I am small and weak.
I need Your strength and wisdom.

Let me walk in beauty.
Make my eyes ever behold the red and purple sunset.
Make my hands respect the things You have made.
And my ears sharp to hear Your voice.

Make me wise so that I may understand the things You have taught my people.
Let me learn the lessons You have hidden under every leaf and rock.

~ Native American Prayer (origin unknown)

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