Song of Hakoda:
While among the southern Water Tribe, there was no such thing,
Hakoda was still a man of means.
While leadership had ceased to exist in such a tiny, fractured tribe,
They looked to Hokoda all the same, two years and more.
Where Tribal members were all family, in the South?
To claim ascendancy was blasphemy.
Forgotten, forbidden history remembered the strength of the South.
But the living remembered the remnants taking hold together.
Those who survived did not stand alone,
But lifted others in their wake.
As Hokada lifted the warriors to fight the good fight.
As his children lifted the world –
Earth, water, and fire
Spinning in the abandoned airs' currents, bringing new life.
New balance.
Old as time, sweet as spring snowmelt.
A man of means leans upon the people,
Leadership no more than a memory.
His blood kin are no more,
But Hokada is still family.
Nothing will be forgotten,
The living pass on their reverence.
No one who survives stands alone.
All are lifted in their wake.
They struggle to keep faith with a good fight
Children raise their eyes to heaven-
Earth, water, and fire
Dancing in air's joyful currents of life
Celebrating balance.
And Time.