Northern Lights

In forest deep, filled fair with pine,
On banks where laughing waters shine,
Night spreads along Chicaugon shore.
Wigwams long gone; canoes no more.
Pensive, pondering, here I roam,
O’re paths of sandstone, rock, and loam.
North wind, whispering, curls the air
With legends of the tribal lair.

Stars of magic, moon of light,
Shimmer golden midst the night.
Draped upon a darkened stage,
Guide me to another age.
Age of ancient tribal ways,
Ojibwa spirits dance in praise.
From the new world they come forth—
Dazzling visions in the North.

Gather they at glistening gate
To sway, to turn, to undulate,
Beckoning to lost souls on earth
To find the home of their rebirth.
Mesmerizing is their plea.
Enchanted sky becomes a sea
Of swirling, shifting, waves of gold,
Plunging through the midnight cold.

Hearts afire, souls in flight
Searching warriors haunt the night.
From their burial huts they rise
Toward the distant darkening skies.
Pass they now the moon of gold,
For since first light they’ve been told
One day to seek the starry wall
Where lights like rippling waters fall.

Braves, like Brother Eagle, soar,
Following path of kindred lore.
For the next world do they search,
Search for cedar, pine, and birch.
For here lies the promised land
Where, with forefathers they will band,
To roam the clouds of yesteryear,
To hunt the ghost wolf, elk, and deer.

As rapt I watch in reverie
A glowing fountain flowing free,
Stardust, fireflies, moonbeams blend—
A message to mysteriously send.
In silence, yet in sweet refrain,
A haunting drumbeat sounds my name.
My soul is swept up in the dream
Of Northern Lights, their reign supreme.

By Coralie Cederna Johnson