The powers that be want you and me to line up for bread.

I don’t eat bread,

But they insist that I get in line and take my share.

I will go and cast my cares and my bread upon the waters, down at the lake.

I will dig the cattails and eat them instead,

Along with the taproots and early shoots of the wapato,

The crunchy grains of amaranth

And curly dock leaves,

And watch the otters.

They swim and play.

This will be my recreation, too,

And I will stay away from everything my formal education 

Has told me to do.

I will sing a hymn of praise to the stars above 

And how they seem to sparkle even from the depths of the lake

Up onto the surface of the water,

And I will pray that my original language returns to me 

Just as a mudpuddle clears in time,

And that all of the stories of my ancestors

Return to me in the rhythm of rhyme

And the form of twinkling stars dancing from deep music in my heart.

-jenn