miigwetch (thank you)

I pay homage to the Thunder-Beings,
Rolling across the sky bringing gimewon,
Sweet cool rain to our sun-soaked fields,
My sky clan loved ones awaken to the spirit,
A-was-a-set, little Thundebolt, heard them miles away.
Bee-da-bin, light in the sky before the sun rises,
Energized with electricity, just like her sons,
Dawning of a new day, endless possibilities,
As my little wildflower, Wa-was-kone-ehs,
rooted in earth, rooted in reality, watches with wonder.
Zhash-kwo-ge-zhik, color of the sky, dark green,
Before a tornado tears the mitigwaki asunder,
The thick forests, trunks and limbs akimbo,
Leaves plucked and torn from their branches,
Quietly sits and ponders unknown things.
Destruction and creation all at once,
I am the nameless one, a Nodwe wandering,
From the snake people east of the lakes,
Their enemy in another time and place,
But we have been scattered to the winds.
We find ourselves in kinship to one another,
Blown and battered by so many storms,
The unending march of time forward,
Living in the land of the Little Chief,
On the banks of the Mzko-ge-zhik Ze-be-ans.
O-ge-ma-as, your nation yet remains,
Living with and amongst the zhaagnosh,
Perhaps they will outlast them as well,
As the southern nations have survived,
Built great Aniishiinabe cities in which they dwell.
Conquistadors long dead and buried,
Their language remains but what else,
Icons of their culture, all but assimilated,
What does the future hold for the rest of us,
Chimookimonisiing miinaawaa Zhaagnoshisiing?
Thunder-Beings, do you see the future,
Would we believe you even if you told us,
We who no longer speak our own language,
What is to be shall be, or so our prophets say,
But so many no longer believe even in them.
So many times in our histories we have survived,
Old ways merged with the new time and again,
Creating something completely different,
Sometimes better sometimes worse,
But change means you are at least still living.
The alternative is to die, to fade away,
To be lost to history, to disappear forever,
So we continue and try to live as we can,
Tell our children the stories we were taught,
Remind them of those who came before.
Thunder-beings, Nodin-Bineshiinhs and friends,
Water panthers, Ogichidaa society of old,
Big drum and medicine lodge as well,
All teach us about our history and ourselves,
Chi Miigwetch to our elders, warriors and healers.
Chi Miigwetch to our creator, Zhe-Manido,
The Great Mystery, the great spirit in us all,
Chi Miigwetch for this life, and the little ones,
The binojiinhs, the children, who remind their parents,
Of what is most important, bring us back to the truth,
Kaanaagaanaa—honor to all my relations—.