Other Writings by Brenda J. Hain.

Brenda J. Hain launched her first paper published book, "The Legacy of Many Colours" September 21, 2008 at A Different Drummer Bookstore in Burlington Ontario.

The Legacy of Many Colours
By: Brenda J. Hain

"This is the true story of the childhood adventures I had with two older Lakota Sioux natives, Maude “Many Colours” Cutaway and her husband Joe “Cut Away” Cutaway. Maude Cutaway was a Native American Lakota Sioux Indian who possessed many talents that she wanted to pass on before her death. I was a redheaded, freckled, pre-teen white kid from the newest Regina suburb wrestled from the grips of the Canadian prairies in the 1960’s."

The Legacy of Many Colours is available on line at Lulu.com
$14.95 Buy it now - Lulu accepts major credit cards and PayPal.

POEMS

Native Earth - 9-11

NATIVE EARTH

September 11, 2006

Save Our Earth

As I sit here on the shore of this lake
I wonder who has been here before me
Children, old people, lovers, warriors, natives?
Walk back in time, join me, when this land was young.

Just like the lovers – feeling excited,
Adventures dancing in their heads.
This path or that, - such decisions,
How were these paths taken?

Carefully one step at a time, or head on in a flurry
I’ve read much about Canada’s history, it’s exploration.
We seemed to feel our way along slowly,
With some respect for this land, not all!

This land has to keep us alive and healthy
So, we’d best help it and respect it.
Explore the alternatives!
Without our lakes, and life giving lands.

We’d have no food, no plants, no animals,
Life will be gone, yours - mine, this world will die.
I could not have written this story,
And you wouldn’t be able to critic my work……

© Brenda Hain

November 5,06

Wakan Tanka Save This Sorry Land

I am a proud Canadian woman
Who has fought many battles
Just to stay alive and free
I love my country, and its peoples

We have fought our aboriginal brothers
For land and water, furs and feathers
I feel a great loss when I see these natives
Locked up for fighting for what is theirs

I know much of what they are learning
Is wrong, but we are to blame.
Who killed all their food, fished the waters dry?
It was us, the greedy invaders, new to the land

We have lost the respect for our Mother Earth
I have seen native men once proud and strong
Sell their horse for a bottle of whiskey or drugs
God help them understand the old ways

But no, we took these peoples for everything they had
Give them their dignity back, along with their rights
To hunt and fish, as they need, it was theirs
Long before, we came to this bountiful land

Oh Wakan Tanka, help my people
Shake off these greedy invaders
Open their closed eyes, let them see
That there is another way to live

In harmony with our aboriginal family
I lived with two Elders, out west
They taught me self-respect comes first
Then our life giving lands, which feed us.

Clothe our bodies, everything comes
From the land, which we invaders
Are slowly poisoning, yes; we are now killing the land
Oh Wakan Tanka open our eyes.

Before we have nothing to hold in our hands,
Mother Earth is growing weak, sick with the fever
Of our pollution, both chemical and moral
Wake up my brothers and sisters.

Hear the moaning of our land; heed these sounds
Take up the fight of our aboriginal peoples
Fight for what is taken from us; and our children
Stand proud and strong.

I am a proud Canadian woman
Who has fought many battles
Just to stay alive and free
I love my country, and its peoples

© Brenda Hain

September, 12, 06

Tis the Wendi-go

Who knows the story of the Spirit Wind__?
What makes us run, when it blows?
Is it a myth or is real,
Ah, Tis the Wendi go
The old ones, they believed
That it hid itself deep at the bottom of the lake,
She taunted them with her beauty
Yes, some were sadly deceived,
Ah, Tis the Wendi go.

Some say it’s the spirit of a woman
Some say it’s our imagination
Who am I to know?
Ah, listen for the Wendi go
Beautiful woman, why do you charm,
Were you lost, or left behind
Is this a vengeful spirit with much harm?
Ah, listen for the Wendi go.

There is no appeasing
There is no show,
This spirit has a burning
Ah, yes I am the Wendi go
I want you lost, with no voice
To feel alone, scared of you’re shadow
Turning in circles, not out of choice,
Ah, I am the Wendi go.

9-11

September, 13, 06

A CHILD’S BIRTHDAY WISH

My childhood died in that attack on Kuwait
Mum cries at the mere sound of his name
I’m going to be 13 next month
And, it just won’t be the same,

I understand daddy’s keeping the peace
I know that what he does is no game,
Another holiday without me dad
He won’t be here to call out my name.

Lord, who started this stupid war?
It wasn’t my daddy; that’s for sure
I’m going to be 13 next month,
He writes to send us love and to reassure

Mum just weeps as they show 9-11,
I ask her is that why daddy’s gone away?
I don’t understand, why all those people went to heaven,
And, just what is what is a jihad anyway,

My daddy is skin and bones now,
So, I wish my birthday wish for him,
Stay safe, and be home to help me my blow,
Those 13 candles out, way to go!

We can fatten him up on my birthday cake
Mum got another letter saying he won’t be here,
Of a snipers fire… Oh for God’s sake.

I’m going to be 13 next month,
There won’t be a party,
Because you see, we’re sending my daddy
To that place reserved, so unchanging

Where Jesus went, when he’d was killed
He’ll not be in pain, and he’ll never be hungry,
My daddy died keeping the peace…
Let’s stop this war, let every gun be stilled.

Bring home every woman and man
This is not their fight that for certain,
My daddy tried to help the warring land,
Who will end this war, maybe I can.

© Brenda Hain

September, 17, 06

My Mama’s Image

Every time I look in a mirror
Someone familiar is looking back at me
I never met her, if I remember
She’s always watching, it’s so clear

Daddy smiles and then he says,
"You look just like her when we met,"
I ask, “Do you mean mama?”
He nods and turns, his face still wet

He goes to a box high on a shelf
And takes out his memories that will never fade
“Come here and look for yourself
It’s your mother, from which you were made"

We lost her on that fateful morning
Jesus took her up to heaven
We live alone now; daddy’s still grieving
Those bad men took her on 9 – 11

I see her when I look into my mirror
As I fix the ribbon in my hair
She always there, it’s so clear
I’m the image of mama, so strong and fair.