From “Native American Heritage” Facebook post on Feb. 18, 2026, I savored these deeply felt words that resonated deeply…

“Under a full moon that holds its breath,

a bear folds the night into its chest.

Beads catch starlight like small prayers,

stitched into blue cloth, heavy with meaning.

A white wolf leans in, slow and sure,

nose to fur, heart to heartbeat,

as if the world can be repaired

by one honest touch.

There is no hunt here.

No test.

Only the work of staying gentle

when power could be easy.

The sky watches with cold patience,

clouds drifting like smoke that never lies.

The bear’s arms become a shelter,

not a cage, not a claim.

Fur meets fur,

and the old fear loosens its grip.

What is wild does not always mean alone.

What is strong does not always mean hard.

Let the moon keep shining without questions.

Let the grass bow in the dark wind.

Tonight, kinship is the only language,

and silence is how it speaks.”