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First Nations Harmony 🔥 Native Culture Pride
⛺ The Best Native American
⭐ Legends never die

I'm so happy you like my work!View the paintings here: https://nativeblood75.com/6559Teachings of the Turtle ClanUpon a ...
17/10/2026

I'm so happy you like my work!
View the paintings here: https://nativeblood75.com/6559

Teachings of the Turtle Clan

Upon a sun-worn cedar limb
four turtles climbed where light grew dim.
Slow as prayer and old as stone,
they moved as if no step alone.

The river circled at their feet,
singing old rhythms soft and deep.
The leaves above like ancestors stirred,
each branch repeating an ancient word.

The eldest turtle softly said,
Rush is a path where wisdom fled.
The youngest listened to the stream
and learned that patience shapes a dream.

For turtle knows what mountains know—
the sacred way is often slow.
Not every journey seeks to race;
some truths arrive through quiet grace.

Their shells held stories, ring by ring,
of storms survived and healing spring.
Each mark a memory carried long,
each scar transformed into a song.

They climbed together, not apart,
for kinship is the strongest heart.
One slips, another bears the strain—
this is how love outlives pain.

The water whispered as it ran:
Endure, protect, remember, stand.
For those who move with earth’s old pace
will find the holy in each place.

So when the world demands you fly,
learn sometimes wisdom passes by
only to those who still can be
as humble as the turtle by the sea.

And in their slow untroubled climb
lives medicine deeper than time—
that gentleness, though small in art,
is one of the oldest strengths of heart.

Thank you for loving this artwork!Find poster and canvas products here: https://nativeblood75.com/3620THE BEAR WHO CARRI...
16/10/2026

Thank you for loving this artwork!
Find poster and canvas products here: https://nativeblood75.com/3620
THE BEAR WHO CARRIED MEMORY

They say there was once a bear who did not just walk the earth —
he remembered it.

On his hide were patterns left by the first carvers,
stories inked in red, black, and bone white
before the languages of men had names for loss or return.
Every spiral on his shoulder marked a winter survived,
every mask-shape on his flank held a face
of someone who had gone before.

He walked between cedar and pine
as though he were a walking shrine,
and wherever he passed the birds fell quiet
as if a ceremony were in motion.

Children were warned not to follow too close —
not because the bear would harm them,
but because memory is heavy,
and only those chosen by grief
can lift what he carries.

Once each generation, the bear would stop.
He would rise on his hind legs and exhale toward the sky.
In that breath — unseen to most —
the ancestors gathered like sparks in wind.
They touched the world for a heartbeat,
then vanished into the bark of trees,
into river-stones, into the skull of mountains.

People who witnessed it did not cheer.
They bowed.

For the bear was not simply an animal.
He was the proof that the past still walks,
that nothing beloved has vanished completely,
and that the earth does not forget
those who once called it home.

It is not merely a work of art; it is a sacred story.I'm so happy you like my work.View the paintings here: https://nati...
15/10/2026

It is not merely a work of art; it is a sacred story.
I'm so happy you like my work.
View the paintings here: https://nativeblood75.com/art203
“The Raven Who Carries the Starlight”

Beneath the endless breath of the night sky,
where stars awaken and ancient winds fly,
the raven stands in the silence of time,
a guardian shaped by the earth’s design.

Its feathers carry the color of the deep,
the hidden stories the mountains keep.
Within its eyes, the cosmos reflects,
the wisdom of paths that the spirit protects.

The raven does not bring the darkness—
it reveals the light within it.
Through storms, through shadows, through unknown skies,
it follows the truth that never dies.

The glowing circles around its wings
hold the memory of forgotten things.
The feather resting upon the earth below
carries the prayers of those who know.

The river whispers, the forest listens,
the stars shine where the old spirits glisten.
All creatures walk beneath one sacred flame,
connected by breath, by earth, and by name.

For the ancient ones taught:

“See beyond the night.
Listen beyond the silence.
For wisdom is carried by those
who know how to fly between worlds.”

And the raven continues its sacred journey—
a messenger of the sky,
a keeper of memories,
a guardian of the eternal circle of life.

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