To the Words I Do Not Yet Have

I want my ancestors’ language planted deep in my tongue / tied to mouth’s floor, a forest filled with my grandmothers / standing tall as redwood. Connected in Mother Earth’s roots, / my grandmothers sing songs only the land knows.

My grandfathers’ prayers fly in on winds that carry / the wolves’ cries, the eagle’s whistle, and the water’s / drip that connects us to all living things.

I want my lips to taste this light that lives in my bones, / blood memory. want to sing songs sacred enough / to bring all of our missing relatives home, / songs spirit-deep and strong enough to unearth / all our stolen children who died holding the prayers / and songs of our language in their mouths. Words became seeds / that sprouted a prayer that calls to us at dawn, / a song that speaks to us in the language of stars.