From the East she blows a gentle rain
And washes away our worry and pain.
Her breezes reach out and bath the night
Then peace is found in the morning light.
Yet still we weep from sorrow and strife,
From sickness and diseases that plague our life.
Perhaps, she thinks, I can blow stronger,
And I know I can blow just a little bit longer.
She summons her anger at injustices past,
And she blows as long as the breath in her lasts.
Down go the trees, up rise the streams
She gathers her forces, her hopes and her dreams.
She whips and she thrusts with all of her might
Gale forces blow all through the night.
Morning arrives, and she finally rests
Her powers and strength were put to the test.
The sun rises high in a clear sky so blue.
Her people were healed, and that’s when she knew
Although she had doubts that she was so strong
She carried that strength within her all along.
She is known for the direction from which she came
When we need her strength, we call her name…
Wocawson Cipenuk; Wind That Blows from the East.
Written for my dear friend, Brenda Dana Lozada
Dawna’s Passamaquoddy father and non-tribal mother divorced when she was small, which removed the Passamaquoddy influences in her life. Her father’s alcoholism kept him from her and her sister’s life. Not until Dawna was an adult did she embrace her heritage, moving to Indian Township with her twin daughters. She immediately knew that was where she was supposed to be. Dawna has worked at the reservation school for over 20 years, first teaching, now as librarian. She has always loved to read and write, especially short stories and poetry, but her real love is beading and making moccasins. When she’s not working at school, or at her moccasin business, Dawna can be found working with women through a non-profit organization, teaching beading, and making various other art; or she can be found enjoying her 6 grandchildren along with her husband’s 6 grandchildren. Dawna currently lives in Princeton, Maine.