Convictions of an Iyeska

By Bo Bearshield

To my relatives,

In my twenty-ninth winter it has become crystal clear.

Yet, it seems I have known all along.

A truth, I have come to hold dear.

As refreshing as an honor song.

The rhythm, the flow, indicative of its sanctity. 

In these times, the world could never know.

A majority of society misunderstanding me.

Despite the storm, I know in my heart it is so.

Half this, half that, born with Lakota pride bursting at my seams.

It was never a choice.

My spirit nourished by Unci Maka for centuries.

It’s time to give the ancestors a voice.

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