ODE TO THE TRAILS

Long before the great world wars, Old Mose Muise and many more, came upon this rock. They struggled through the two, and left a mighty flock.
Our parties grew in seasons after our arrival, Over the seas, rivers, and snowcap mountains, with levels of natural fruits, nourishing our survival. Redman, once and still, only claiming medicine from those mother roots, Now lay to rest alongside!
Other countries searching for whales, cod or fame came , and left again and again and again. Upon the rocks, called mounds, no one could ever claim, left a mark in life, now nothing remains the same.
On the land so pure and free, the forest of white and black bears. The hopping of the artic hare, The cycle of the caribou, then sometimes rare, We ate salmon, beaver, eels and seal with our natural tea you see, oh! Our health so fine, Tis, to multiply our kind, the ancient ones canoed here for a long, long time!
Fore Freedom we had before, Here In NEWFOUNDLALD.
Landlocked down from all else, He gave us this all free, Now after wandering these centuries, we cannot survive, by the sea, or our pulp and paper drives, Our marble, and oil won’t fail this time... it is the end, Not just for me! But for the young and old we sent back out to sea.
In all life we only own, What elders leave behind. When poverty struck beneath this dome, It changed our course in time!
Those darkest days are long but gone, Now modern ways we call upon, No stones are left beneath the earth, that could ever tell all the tales, Still, all that death and all that healing, we.
Fore Freedom we had before, Here in NEWFOUNDLAND.
Composed (Remembrance Day) Nov.11, 2005
Victor James Muise Jr. III (Pikto'l Sa'ke'j Muise)

GIVE ME SEPTEMBER

Some folk I know prefer the spring .
Others like it when song birds sing.
Some look at the winter glee.
But give me September.
Then gone is every insect pest,
Moskitos, mints and all the rest.
Those days I love the best,
But, give me September.
I noted one day on a gravel way ,
A sample of grit that was rare,
A bold seedling pine,
With needles so fine ,
It's life span strived to be there.
And the Parry Osprey on it south leading wings ,
Breast the air in tooting and talking .
It's affairs worked hard all summer long.
The ant like the bee ,
In industry ,
Does labour the whole summer long .
With respect sincere and ,
The winter severe ,
It's life span, too ,
It strives to prolong.
In this life of woe every thing likes to hang on,
And those healed dear ,
While passing down here,
You're not forgotten soon after your gone.
VJM/Nina Se'ke'j (Spirit of the White Wolf)

PRAYER FOR SURVIVAL

KWE

PRAYER ROR SURVIVAL:

Oh, Great Spirit of the Eastern Door, as the sun rises each day and we think of our ancestors and our sisters and brotherly nations across Mother Earth, this we are grateful for.

All creation will help us sustain our existence and guide and put forth our Spiritual, Emotional and Physical expression throughout each day.

As we seek we will send a message of hope to our Indian people across our sacred land (Turtle Island)Mother Earth and help them to enter into the society of today....

We, as people, cannot give up what we have NOW.

But we can restore and incorporate the culture of our Ancient ancestors and teach our youth the past, now in the present, and accept things we cannot see in the endless tomorrow.

Sa'qewei-wjijaqamijl wape'k paqt-sm

(Ancient Spirit of the White Wolf)

Pikto'l Sa'ke'j Muise/