A long time ago, in the days when our grandfathers still carried the songs on their breath and the women wove the stories into the children’s hair, there lived a boy named Mîkisiw — Eagle.
Mîkisiw was troubled. Anger stirred inside him like a storm that would not rest. Every time someone said a harsh word, every time the world seemed unfair, he felt the heat rise. His fists would clench, his breath would grow short, and his heart would pound like the drum at the powwow.
One evening, his grandfather, a wise old man called Wâpikwan — White Flower — saw the storm in his grandson’s eyes.
“Come, grandson,” he said softly. “Let us go to the river.”
They walked together beneath the stars, the moon casting silver over the slow-moving water. The crickets sang their songs, and the wind carried the scent of spruce and sweetgrass. They sat on a smooth stone by the riverbank.
“Grandfather, why do I feel this way?” Mîkisiw finally asked, his voice small.
Wâpikwan smiled gently. “Inside each of us, my boy, there are two wolves. They live in our chest and walk with us through every day.”
Mîkisiw looked up, his brow furrowed. “Two wolves?”
“Yes,” the old man nodded. “One wolf is anger, jealousy, greed, resentment. He feeds on bitterness and grows stronger when we allow the world to make us hard. His eyes are sharp, and his teeth are always ready to bite.”
The old man paused, letting the night carry the words like medicine.
“The other wolf is love, kindness, humility, courage, and wisdom. He feeds on our prayers, our gratitude, and our hope. His eyes are calm, and his paws leave soft tracks wherever he walks.”
The boy listened closely, feeling both wolves inside him even now.
“But grandfather,” Mîkisiw whispered, “which wolf will win?”
The old man smiled, his eyes reflecting the moonlight.
“The one you feed, grandson. The one you feed.”
They sat in silence, the river gently singing its song as if agreeing with the teaching.
From that day forward, Mîkisiw learned to listen to the quiet voice inside — to feed the wolf of kindness with every sunrise, to offer tobacco when he was thankful, and to sit quietly when the storm tried to rise again.
Tâpwê
—Kanipawit Maskwa
John Gonzalez
Standing Bear Network
