Poets Laureate
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poetslaureate.bsky.social
Poets Laureate
@poetslaureate.bsky.social
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Celebrating and uplifting the official poets of our communities who celebrate and uplift all of us! | Not linked to any government organization | also on IG & Threads at @poetslaureate.us | linktr.ee/poetslaureate
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poetslaureate.bsky.social
Thank you! And @jencvoice.bsky.social is a wonderful and engaging laureate. Great find! And be sure to call the poetry hotline this month!
December 14, 2024 at 7:12 PM
Reposted by Poets Laureate
chrissteller.bsky.social
Here is what's billed as Minneapolis's first official poem.

Poem for Minneapolis
Bde Óta Othúŋwe/Gakaabikaang

by Heid E. Erdrich

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1- Biboon/Waniyetu/Winter This is the city dreaming in its original language. Dakota home mapped on astronomical planes so streets still chart the stars, tell us where to be in each season. River at spring equinox, sun up. Lake at fall equinox, sun down. Winter quiets us makes the perfect place to listen to hear one another. This is the city dreaming into frozen spaces in a bare year, silence broken by wishes: calling for ceasefire, calling down the snow, calling for a safe place, a home. 2- Ziigwan/Wetú//Spring This is a city waking without enough rest. Franklin Avenue charts the stars, spring equinox - sunrise at the river. Too warm, but yeah, sometimes it snows in April. We howl in the streets for the Wolves while encampments pop up here and there, guns pop here, someone’s shot there. Still, on Earth Day a child says every day the city is “a kid and mom on a bike.” Bde Óta Othúŋwe, your people say you are green, alive, busy, sirens, traffic, separate, divided, diverse, better together. Gakaabikaang, you are: eagles over the river, community care, dog walking, good coffee, creative grit, sacred space. City of Lakes, you are also your river, springs and creeks. 3- Niibin/Bdóketu/Summer Rain rain rain Green green green Construction season again and the traffic’s insane –whatever it takes for the bike and bus lanes. Gakaabikaang, your people want solutions, peace, safety, homes, houses, help for unhoused relatives, trees, trees, trees, bike lanes, theater, community, peace, peace, peace, peace, togetherness, peace, peace. Rain rain rain Green green green The Poet Laureate trips on the Library of Congress steps breaks her arm. Her cast is green. Kids sign it with their ideas for poems to match: A luna moth, a tree, an inchworm, a horsetail fern, and the greenest possibilities. In the wildflower garden, near Medicine Spring, we poets sang to the moon and listened to Minneapolis say what her people need: truth, teens and elders united, the will to help, a middle class, garden farms, fewer boundaries, art as healing, humility, mutual respect, fewer fences, deeper connection, peace. 4- Dagwaagin/Ptaŋyetu/Fall The Ave charts the stars. Fall equinox, sun sets at Cedar Lake, but at Four Sisters market, in abundance, your people say never forget: Dakota homeland, Pride, Prince, change, the uprising, May Day Parade, American Indian Movement, the birthplace of AIM. In North Minnie, poets read old maps Ȟaȟá Wakpádaŋ/Bassett Creek Bde Maka Ska, Mni Owe Sni/Cold Water Spring. “Manoominike” atop Northeast tells us Ojibwe worked wild rice there, long before Anoka. Near Owamni we feel creeks and springs flow under streets to the base of Stone Arch without ever seeing daylight. City of Lakes, you are also your river, creeks and springs. Elders Southside tell us to remember: street cars, historic sites, Aquatennial, a spirit of gratitude, how we came together, George Floyd and May Day. They say Minneapolis could slow down, be more honest, kind, courageous, listen more with heart and joy. The city, they say, needs a sense of humor. Maybe, this year, we need a nap? We all feel winter coming on and we want our hibernation. When the city sleeps, what does it dream? Bde Óta Othúŋwe/Gakaabikaang/Minneapolis in our future we see: more trees, green space, justice, health, wonder or horror, creativity, BIPOC leaders, fewer phones, more immigrants, compassion, love, welcome for all and “Robots speaking Dakota.” When the city dreams in seasons what does it learn? Listen to the city dreaming, calling us home in many languages. Listen to the city flowing, dreaming, moving toward its chorus learning its multiple and singular voice.
December 6, 2024 at 4:40 AM