Native Verse

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐃𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐫𝐨🎉- 𝐀 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.
Robert De Niro was born on August 17, 1943, in New York City, into an artistic family. He began his career in the 1960s and rose to prominence with roles in Bang the Drum Slowly (1973), Mean Streets (1973), and especially The Godfather Part II (1974), which earned him an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor. He continued to impress with Taxi Driver (1976), Raging Bull (1980 – Best Actor Oscar), Goodfellas, Casino, Heat, The Irishman (2019), and Killers of the Flower Moon (2023). Beyond acting, he co-founded the Tribeca Film Festival, the global Nobu restaurant chain, and is a vocal advocate for social justice, arts education, and climate action. With over 60 years of dedication, De Niro stands as a living icon of cinematic excellence and civic responsibility.
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She Walks With Thunder
She walks not quiet, though her steps are light,
With feathers strong and eyes of ancient night.
Her blood remembers battles, wind, and flame—
And every star still whispers her true name.
Born of the Earth, with rivers in her veins,
She speaks in silence, dances through the rains.
Not forged of steel, but of the mountain's stone,
A power grown when all the world’s alone.
They see her soft, and think her easily swayed—
But storms don’t tremble when they meet her gaze.
For in her soul, the eagle still takes flight,
And ancestors walk with her every night.
So never doubt the fire behind her grace,
Or test the roots time never could erase.
She is the storm, the drum, the sky above—
A Native woman: fierce, and full of love.

Zahn Tokiya-ku McClarnon is an American actor of Native American descent, born on October 24, 1966, in Denver, Colorado, USA. He is of Hunkpapa Lakota heritage, a Native American tribe within the Lakota lineage. McClarnon has had a diverse and successful acting career, appearing in films, television shows, and on stage.
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One of McClarnon's most notable roles is as Mathias in the A&E television series "Longmire." This role helped him gain attention from the public and marked his presence in the film industry. McClarnon has also participated in other film and television projects such as "Fargo," "Westworld," "Barkskins," and "Doctor Sleep."
Beyond his acting career, McClarnon has contributed to Native American culture by portraying characters and stories of the Native American community on screen. His roles often carry a humanitarian aspect and reflect the issues and experiences of Native Americans in modern society. He has worked diligently to portray diversity and depth in his roles, helping to increase awareness and understanding of Native American culture and life.
By engaging in film and television projects and portraying Native American characters with sensitivity and authenticity, Zahn Tokiya-ku McClarnon has contributed to the diversification and development of the entertainment industry while honoring and respecting the culture of the Native American community. Additionally, McClarnon has been actively involved in social and political activities within the Native American community, using his influence to advocate for the rights and fairness of his people. Through his career and activism, he has become a symbol of pride and dedication to the Native American community, dedicating his life to shedding light on and contributing to the development and progress of this community

Jessica Matten, Zahn McClarnon, and Kiowa Gordon in "Dark Winds."
We at WIN have had the absolute joy of meeting both Zahn McClarnon and Kiowa Gordon at Native American Film Festivals—and we can honestly say, what amazing talents and incredible human beings they are.
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Down to earth.
Both Zahn and Kiowa bring so much depth and authenticity to their roles, representing Native voices with power, pride, and heart.
But beyond the screen, they’re just as inspiring—gracious, grounded, and truly generous with their time and spirit.
It’s an honor to support and celebrate them, and we can’t wait to see all that’s ahead in their journeys.
Let’s keep uplifting Native talent, on-screen and off!

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐃𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐫𝐨🎉- 𝐀 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.
Robert De Niro was born on August 17, 1943, in New York City, into an artistic family. He began his career in the 1960s and rose to prominence with roles in Bang the Drum Slowly (1973), Mean Streets (1973), and especially The Godfather Part II (1974), which earned him an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor. He continued to impress with Taxi Driver (1976), Raging Bull (1980 – Best Actor Oscar), Goodfellas, Casino, Heat, The Irishman (2019), and Killers of the Flower Moon (2023). Beyond acting, he co-founded the Tribeca Film Festival, the global Nobu restaurant chain, and is a vocal advocate for social justice, arts education, and climate action. With over 60 years of dedication, De Niro stands as a living icon of cinematic excellence and civic responsibility.
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Congratulations - Lily Gladstone for being the first Native Indigenous Blackfeet/Nimíipuu Female in its eighty-one-year history, to win the Best Actress at the Golden Globe Awards for her role in "Killers of the Flower Moon!"
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"The villains are fairly obvious in “Flower Moon,” but Scorsese asks audiences to take a wider look at systemic racism, historical injustice, and the corruptive influence of power and money, intriguingly tying together our past and present." ~ Brian Truitt,
"Gladstone, in the rare Scorsese film that gives center stage to a female character, is the emotional core here, and it's her face that stays etched in our memory."
~ Jocelyn Noveck
“This is for every little Rez kid, every little urban kid, every little Native kid out there who has a dream and is seeing themselves represented in our stories told by ourselves, in our own words..." ~ Lily Gladstone
"We Are Still Here!" 🪶
Top 📸: Mollie Kyle (Burkhart, Cobb) Osage, (1886-1937)
Bottom: Lily Gladstone (Blackfeet-Nez Perce
❤️ Proud to be a Native American

Whispers in the Wind
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By the breath of the earth, where the wild birds fly,
A dreamcatcher sways ‘neath an endless sky.
A hummingbird hovers, with colors so bright,
Like a spirit in motion, a flicker of light.

Listen to the wind — it carries the past,
The voices of wisdom too quiet to last.
Listen to silence — it holds what is true,
In stillness, the world softly speaks back to you.

Listen to your heart, for it always has known,
The paths you must wander, the seeds you have sown.
Where feathers float gently and stars softly gleam,
There lives the deep echo of hope and of dream.

Let the wind talk.
Let the silence speak.
Let your heart guide you —
For it never was weak.

“Where I Came From”
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They told her to go back.
“Go back to where you came from,” the man had scoffed, arms crossed, sure of his place in the world — confident that hers wasn’t here.But Niyol didn’t flinch. She had heard those words before — sharp-edged echoes passed down from centuries of broken treaties and forced removals, always meant to erase, to push away, to forget.

That night, under a silent sky, she painted four figures on a hide — the ancestors. Warriors, dancers, storytellers, dreamers. They stood across colored earth — red, ochre, mint, ash — like the seasons of a people who never left. Each silhouette carried the memory of thousands, each gesture a quiet defiance. Niyol wrapped herself in that painted story, and the next morning, she went.Not far. Not out of anger. But with a tent and a drum and a small wooden pipe, she walked to the manicured lawn at the corner of Colonizer Lane, and pitched her home beneath a maple tree. Right on the front yard of the man who told her to disappear.

When he emerged, shocked and sputtering, she smiled and said,
“You told me to go back to where I came from. So I did.”She sat down and lit the pipe, sending smoke upward — not in rage, but remembrance. People began to gather. Some in curiosity, some in shame. Others brought food. A few joined in song. And slowly, a new truth formed in that yard:She had never left.
And if land remembers — then so do people.
She wasn’t reclaiming land. She was reminding it.

“The Land Remembers My Name”
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They told me to leave—
to go back where I belong.
But they forgot:
this earth once knew my footsteps
before theirs ever sang a song.

I came not from across the sea,
but from the fire
etched in red rock and cedar tree,
from rivers that carried my mother’s voice,
from plains that raised me wild and free.

I do not return—
I awaken.
Each tent pole I raise
is a memory unshaken,
each feather a prayer
for all they tried to take.

Their lawn is not a conquest.
It is ceremony.
It is sacred laughter
echoing in places
where their maps erased my name.

So I stand—not in defiance,
but in belonging.
Not to steal,
but to remind:
You cannot exile the roots
from the soil that still sings them home.

We Are Still Here
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Upon the mighty buffalo's back,
A warrior rides with strength intact.
His feathers wave in the winds of time,
A legacy, proud and sublime.

Through the deserts and across the plains,
Endurance etched in sacred veins.
The mountains rise, the sun sets low,
Yet his spirit continues to grow.

"We are still here," he whispers loud,
A voice of heritage, fierce and proud.
"We are still strong, we hold our ground,
In every echo, our roots are found."

From past to present, in each breath we take,
Through trials faced and decisions we make,
We stand unbroken, through night and day,
For this land, we shall forever stay.

No matter the storm, no matter the strife,
We endure through the circle of life.
For we are still here, and we will never leave,
In our hearts, our ancestors believe.

The Spirit of Contentment
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We were not poor,
Not by the means of gold or silver,
But rich in the earth, in the wind, and in the sky,
Our hearts bound to the land,
The sacred breath of the wind in our soul.

We did not seek what others had,
For we knew the beauty of what we possessed,
The warmth of the fire, the song of the river,
The strength of the eagle soaring above,
And the spirit of the ancestors guiding our steps.

We were happy with what we had,
Grateful for each sunrise, each sacred moment,
For the abundance of life in every form,
Content to take what we needed,
And leave the world in peace.

No riches, no gold could match the wealth we knew,
For our treasure was not in what we could hold,
But in the harmony we lived with,
The deep respect for every creature,
And the sacred cycles of the earth.

In the stillness of the night,
We listen to the whispers of those who came before,
Their lessons carved in the winds,
In the songs of the trees,
And in the sacred dances of the stars.

May we remember,
That true wealth is not counted in what we own,
But in the love we give,
In the gratitude we share,
And in the peace we leave behind.

“The Circle”
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Long ago, in a land where the winds carried whispers of the ancestors and the earth pulsed with quiet wisdom, there was a village hidden between the tall pines and the river’s curve. The people of this village lived by one sacred teaching passed down through generations: “In the Circle, we are all equal.” It was not merely a saying—it was the heartbeat of their way of life.
Each moon cycle, the elders, hunters, gatherers, dreamers, and children would gather in a great circle carved into the earth with stones. There were no chairs of power, no pedestals, no stage. Just the earth beneath, the sky above, and each other. The youngest sat beside the oldest, the quiet beside the outspoken, the leader beside the listener. A young girl named Sani, curious and spirited, once asked her grandmother, “Why do we always sit in a circle? Why not a line or a square?”

Her grandmother smiled gently and replied, “Because in a line, someone is always first and someone is always last. In a square, there are corners—places to hide, edges to fall. But in a circle, we see each other. No one is in front, no one behind. No one above, no one below. We meet as equals.” Sani didn’t fully understand then. But one season, a great storm came. Trees fell. Crops drowned. Fear crept into the village like a slow mist. The people began to argue—who should lead? Who should fix what? Who should be blamed?

Sani, remembering her grandmother’s words, gathered the villagers and gently called them to the sacred space. One by one, they sat in the circle again. There was silence at first—then voices rose, not in anger, but in truth. Each person shared. Each voice mattered. And slowly, the fear lifted. From that day on, Sani became known as The One Who Remembered the Circle. She taught others not just to sit together, but to listen together. She reminded them that power lies not in being above others, but beside them. So if ever you feel lost, unseen, or unheard—draw a circle. Gather your people. And remember:
When in the circle, no one is in front.
No one is behind.
No one is above.
No one is below.
We are all equal.