it was a dream
by Laura S. Ten Fingers
Detail of photograph by Danielle Shandiin Emerson
it was a dream
no, it was more
i was standing alone in the badlands
no,
bare feet pressed against packed dirt
plateaus interrupted by deep fractures
the sun bled red across the clouds
alone amongst endless horizons
an old man sat in a wheelchair
no,
an elder was there
his eyes glinting across the scape of forever
the ends of his mouth turned upwards towards the sky
lively breaths echoed in the silent fissures
he said odd things
no,
he said
“it’s time to go home”
the old man's stare tore into youthful skin
an all seeing eye confronting sin
he turned into a snake
no,
his body morphed into a coil
diamonds scattered flesh
the musk of man lingered
a tongue tasting bare heart
he disappeared into a hole
no,
backbone sliding into crevice
alone amongst the elements
kneeling on the foundation of us
forever waits for a savior
i felt alone
no,
confronted with self
mirrors lurk in our unseen
lucidity slips between knowing and unknowing
mourning martyrs in the clouds
it was a dream
no, it was a warning
Laura S. Ten Fingers is a Lakota writer, scholar, and teacher from the Oglála Band of the Thítȟuŋwaŋ on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota. Her work is rooted in Lakota culture, spirituality, and ancestral storytelling traditions. She explores memory, identity, and Indigenous identity through writing and visual language. Laura holds a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Cinematic Arts and Technology from the Institute of American Indian Arts.