Mdamen is a leadership program where Tribal members spend nine weeks establishing connections to their Potawatomi heritage.

Each participant in the class is asked to complete a final reflection, including a tangible manifestation of their experience, whether that be a poem, song, painting or other ways they choose to express themselves.

The Hownikan is highlighting one of the final reflections from the most recent Mdamen class, a poem by Zach Wall.

1. It’s Mko Gises, Bear Moon
And I’m writing this poem, on stolen Piscataway land
Thirteen hundred miles away from Shawnee
With Séma clutched in my left hand
Intention set, reflecting on what it means to be Nishnabe
What I’ve learned from the Seven Grandfathers
Miraculous seeds of knowledge, values to embody

2. Since the Prophets spoke of fires
We’ve always been here, and we still are
Crossed Turtle Island, with Megis shell GPS
To that sacred place where food grows on the water
We called Nishnabek together, saving our council’s embers
And we’ve kept that fire burning, glowing, growing
We gather, dance, and share stories to remember

3. Voyageurs with long knives arrived
Promises of brotherhood and promises of death
We found a middle, muddy ground at first
But Wendigo, always hungry, eats and
eats til nothing’s left
So, they pushed us from our lakes, grabbed
our wild rice beds
And Chemokman tricked, removed and
cheated, and pushed us once again
Until we reached this new home,
among our other Native kin

4. Now we hold Wendigo to account
For the debts they owe and always will
There is no alternative but to thrive
And remind them of what they could never kill
We tend a vibrant garden and diversify portfolios
Relearn forgotten words, break ground on new casinos
Amplify our prayers with braids of Wishkpemishkos

5. We remember, more than ever
Our fellow living beings, treat them in a good way
Four-legged, winged, rooted, all relatives
Listen, with humility, to what they have to say
Though we’re scattered all over, in cities and rural places
We’re tethered, forever, fragrant strands of sweetgrass
Dreaming up a better world, for
the next Seven Generations

6. Is my blood Indian enough?
Those cruel quantum questions linger
“How much are you, what percentage, I mean?”
But finally, the answer, right here at my fingers
Bodéwadmi ndaw, Shishibéni ndebendagwes
I’m hundred percent Potawatomi, actually
Was the answer all along; what else did I expect?

7. And here is Kishko, Second Born,
Once a baby chicken-lookin’ lil guy
Now basking in the golden Oklahoma sunset
Bodéwadmi wings outstretched, eager to take flight
Hownikan, will you carry our prayers up to Creator?
After you finish that quail, and your snack of mice?
Either way, just please know we’re
proud; bama pi, see ya later!

Iw