Typewriter Series #2802 by Tyler Knott Gregson
This was written for the Fort Hall Indian Reservation in Idaho, as a collaboration and partnership with the beautiful @headregal . Honored to work with such a beautiful group of people on a day so many Americans get entirely wrong.
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Lost, as all things are lost somewhere in the move, forgotten as first sunrises find their way over new mountains, new plains still yet unknown. This is not the home you knew, you of stolen land and searching hearts, of aching cry across a sea of grass and hill, you of story passed down and strong. Teach me your stories, of what was, once, what should be now.
This a time of harvest, show me what it is to give thanks, to call people in and not out, to echo truth into the night sky, painted with spark and drum, warm breath on cold air. Tell me what you know of survival, quiet endurance in the face of injustice and ignorance.
Teach me your stories, of hawk flight and the changing of leaves on river bank, of first snowfall and the silence that follows it.
I watch you through smoke that rises, flame lit eyes with sadness in their depths, hope in the colors of iris, and wish I understood as you understand.
You of all that was taken, you who have lost more than we have will ever have. You of endless space and star-filled skies, of thanksgiving as it was meant to be, constantly with palms open in awe to all we are given. Teach me your stories, of the words you leave behind, safely kept in bird song, in stream, in late Summer thunder that haunts as it rolls.
-Tyler Knott Gregson-
