The Native American Youth Academy (NACA) is a tuition-free public charter school in Albuquerque, New Mexico that proudly serves students from over 60 tribes. With an emphasis on indigenous thought and fostering community values, NACA is bringing representation to education.
In our collaboration with NACA, we have published the original poetry from five unique students here. Click the name or photo of each student to see their poetry.
Keira Montoya is a 17-year-old Junior at Native American Community Academy. She is from the Sandia, Santa Clara, and Nambe Pueblos. The youngest of six siblings, aspiring to become a travel nurse in the near future, she enjoys spending time with friends and listening to music.
Keanu Lewis is a Junior at the Native American Community Academy. His tribes are Navajo, Zuni, and Acoma. He’s 17-years-old and likes to play video games. He has three dogs and is a chill guy.
Caeleigh Morgan is a Junior at the Native American Community Academy. She is from Albuquerque, New Mexico and she is Diné and Lakota. She is often found reading manga, drawing and painting, or playing guitar. Caeleigh has dreams of traveling the world and making art.
Jayden Tsosie is a Junior at the Native American Community Academy. Jayden is Navajo and he thinks music is a good way of expressing yourself. He plays basketball and video games as a hobby. Jayden has plans to be a firefighter.
Samuel Jim is 17-years-old and is a Junior currently attending the Native American Community Academy. He lives in Albuquerque NM, and was born in Chinle, AZ. Samuel is Navajo and his hobbies are playing video games and the guitar.
Samuel Jim is 17-years-old and is a Junior currently attending the Native American Community Academy. He lives in Albuquerque NM, and was born in Chinle, AZ. Samuel is Navajo and his hobbies are playing video games and the guitar.
Keira Montoya
“Far From Gone”
My name, my name,
what is it to begin with?
As smooth and divine, it might seem,
little dark one is what it means,
although I don’t fully know if I live up to it.
As the name Keira swiftly falls out my mom’s mouth
telling me how much she loved my name,
smiling, telling me how I got it in the first place.
I make my own name for myself,
is what I’m told.
The contrast between middle and first,
as I was named Paradise,
bringing the perfect mixture of both dark and light together,
as it rings in others’ ears as different.
But you may call me baa’wee,
as it means rainbow in my dying language.
First looking at me, I’m told I look different.
I look exotic.
Exotic, as in some animal of sort.
I clearly don’t have blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin,
but the complete opposite,
brown hair, brown eyes, brown skin.
Upon questions, I’m asked
What are you?
Thinking to myself, I am me.
But it’s never the right answer.
I am Native American.
As I tell them, their eyes light up, as if I’m some kind of token to them,
telling me, I thought they all died.
That statement being half true as my culture, traditions begin to fade.
Forgetting us as if we were never here in the first place.
In their eyes I look like a mythical creature,
but to others a drunk, a druggie Indian.
Telling me, You’ll end up the same way as all Natives,
as drunk and useless,
that I’ll go to hell for my beliefs.
Others calling me Pocohontas,
as if she wasn’t stolen from her land.
Her story being morphed into to a princess tale,
told to other little girls
until they learn the sad truth to her story
that they romanticized.
Colonization happening,
growing up being told,
I act too white or Too Native.
Never perfect but
again, I am me.
I am Keira.
I make my own name for myself.
“From Me to You”
I come from the loud city of Albuquerque,
where police sirens and gunshots are heard daily,
where the air is dry and crisp
painted and sculpted from blood.
I come from the small Pueblo of Sandia,
where everyone listens and talks,
running across the haystack at my Chee-ee’s,
from the land filled with tumbleweeds
where my tufla (feather) meets my brown wavy hair
as it flows in the four winds,
getting my arms painted, having marks etched out
and handed evergreens.
Only on a special occasion handed eagle feathers,
told to dance hard and well,
watching as the buffalo walk down the mountain so elegantly,
as the sun kisses the peak of the mountain.
Bien mur.
Slowly making our way down to plaza as the dances begin,
met with the harmony of traditional songs and the beating drum,
hearing the shuffle of the dancers’ feet. She is so graceful and agile,
along her side there they all dance protecting her.
I come from the dusty Kiva floor.
Staying in until the sun’s up for doings.
As the smell of smoke burns into my Indian dress and shawl,
holding my bundle in one hand and my moccasins in the other.
Being asked did they start yet?
I come from the North Kiva.
From the cornmeal spilled upon the drum
only once when the dances end.
Hearing the sign of relief made
walking back home to be blessed by family members and praised.
I come from the dances.
Hearing as the bells jingle so lightly as the eagles dancers come in,
their painted faces staring at the ground,
quietly waiting for the drum to start,
the low humming sound of the drum as it begins.
Soaring their wings cultivating onlookers,
giving a euphoric feeling,
watching as the dainty feathers fall to the ground.
Once done only are they met with little kids running after them,
capturing them and keeping them safe.
I come from the crackling sound the fire makes,
walking up to the church to dance,
wearing my manta, Indian dress, belt, and turquoise jewelry.
I come from many places.
From eating posole and tamales,
to hearing giggles as signs of happiness from my brothers.
Where my bebas care about me,
teaching me my traditions,
as they are being forgotten.
From watching the dances to being in them.
From the Tiwa people.
From the Tiwa people.
From the Tiwa people.
Keanu Lewis
“My Youth”
I come from the islands of Hawaii
known for its beauty surrounded
by deep blue seas and cool winds, breeze.
Aloha.
From my mother, the strongest person I’ve ever known
and all the fond memories I had with her. Hagoonee Shima.
I come from a small house in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by dirt and trees,
the only way out a dirt road.
When it rains, I smell the dirt and pray for another day of rain.
Fond memories of my youth and not a care
in the world nothing to worry about.
I come from my parents who’ve shaped me
into the kind and helpful person I am today.
From all the pain, heartbreak, and losses
I’ve faced. Not another day of pain will break me today.
I come from tribes of Acoma, Zuni, and Navajo that I’m proud to be a part of,
surrounded by tradition, culture, and languages. My clans come from ancestors,
Tl’aash chii.
I come from Acoma Pueblo surrounded by singing, dancing, and culture.
My ancestors ancestors ancestors. I can hear them clearly and loud like they’re singing along.
I come from foods given to us by our elders who care for us and feed us.
Frybread, chili, and mutton stew. Savoury foods to fill me up.
I come from moments in my life that make me the person I am today.
I hope that I can go back to the moments that made me happy.
“The Breeze”
My name means the breeze through the tropical trees of Honolulu.
Honolulu, my home screams my name across the Oahu cliffside,
mountains to hear my name scream back. Where volcanic bliss floats.
You will find blue waters, breeze and it shows the reflection of me.
Immerse yourself in its deepness where you can find faith and peace.
My name is drawn in the sand with a seashell in my hand hearing waves crashing
while birds are flocking in the blue sky.
Hear my breeze come to your dreams while you sleep, look up at the night sky,
the stars spell out my name.
The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell,
so don’t fall asleep or you’ll miss what the breeze has to tell.
Caeleigh Morgan
“Reclaiming My Name”
Caeleigh is what they call me.
My first name comes from a magazine.
Caeleigh? They ask.
Caeleigh. I confirm.
Well, that’s not very Native American.
They retort.
Do I not come from Navajo or Lakota people and land?
Are my Indigenous features not enough for you?
Is it the way I speak perfect English?
Caeleigh Lakota Morgan is my full name.
Lakota? Your name doesn’t fit together.
What does that even mean?
I will make this name mine.
I am Caeleigh Morgan.
I will make this name mine.
And I come from wild, raging NDNs.
I will make this name mine.
My name may not come from warriors
or acknowledge my roots but I am a warrior.
I will make this name have meaning.
My name will mean resilience.
“i am rural america”
i come from the warm and sunny land of enchantment.
i was born and raised in albuquerque where violence and
beauty go hand-in-hand.
where i as a young woman have to be aware of my
surroundings and where i can’t live my life as i please
because i was taught that there is danger lurking
around every corner.
being a woman is hard enough with the physicalities and
expectations but with the addition of living in fear and
trying not to disappear makes it hard to want to exist in
this world.
what i want for the future is justice and equality for
women around the world. i will be one of many who
will bring change to the world.
Jayden Tsosie
“The Way it Goes”
my name is blue the color
of travis scott’s E30
i find my name to be jackboys after the group
with my name it’s believing
i compare my name to the music artists
that i have found myself jayden
the name all friends and family call me
with my name it’s believing
my name is gonna be the one you call
the one on the favorites list
who will always be there
with my name it’s believing
the last name to me has been passed down
from my dad’s dad to him to me
welcome to third generation
with my name it’s believing
“The Soundtrack to My Life”
i come from my mom and dad naming me jayden, to what everyone calls me
i come from a basketball family with talent to spread down, down, down to each family member
i come from my family being all navajo to talking the language left and right
i come from learning some diné to more and more each time
i come from being honest and caring to showing that i can always be the one to tell you the truth
i come from being shy to talking more and more, especially if i know you
i come from my favorite artist kid cudi, show me new sounds or power, me full of believing
i come from liking mac and cheese that makes my stomach full
i come from being my grandparents larry and mardy´s favorite
cause of how much i care for them
i come from playing video games to talking to my friends and enjoying the moments
i come from a place where its never ending
Samuel Jim
“Memories”
I come from Chinle, Arizona.
From being a Rez kid to a City kid.
From being dirty and running around in the dirt to
staying indoors playing video games.
I come from a one-story house
with 3 siblings and my mom.
I come from the TV shows I used to watch as a child,
Spongebob and Dragon Ball Z.
I come from heavy metal music.
From Metallica and Ozzy Osbourne.
From the riff of The Four Horsemen and the two solos from Mr Crowley.
I come from the Navajo Tacos
that smell of many flavors.
Chili, tomatoes, bread and cheese.
I come from being Native American.
From both my dad and my mom.
I come from the different languages that I learned,
English from my parents and from the Diné of my grandparents.
I come from my clans that were given to me,
Maii deeshgizhnii Naakai Dine Tachini and Ashinii.
I come from the important things to me,
family and friends that made me a stronger person.
I come from the things that made me happy.
From Legos to video games.
I come from the Navajo Tacos,
the way my grandma makes them and how she made the bread.
I come from the things I was told not to do traditionally,
from don’t look outside and don’t whistle at night.
I come from the things that showed me happiness.
Family and making others happy.
I come from the memories I had as a child.
From being lost at a crowded area and watching the trains go by.
The trains that made loud noises and painted with graffiti.
I come from the Navajo Tacos,
The Navajo Tacos that brought me excitement to eat.
I come from Chinle, Arizona,
the place where I was originally born.
“My Reservation”
The Reservation, home of my Diné family,
where I can be free, not worrying about a care in the world,
where we got together to have a great time.
Where we have cookouts eating burgers, hotdogs, ribs and chips,
drinking the basha’s colas and shastas.
The scent was a great smell, a smell of grilled food.
The food that brought me happiness, knowing I was home.
Hearing my family talking, hearing kids playing, the dogs barking,
hearing the grandmas speak to each other in Diné and laughing,
hearing the cars go by from a distance.
It made me feel like I was home.
I could see hills far away, my family sits around the tables
set up outside under the hot sun after the day was over.
Seeing the Nizhoni hills lit up by the sunset, seeing the hills red,
seeing the sky half turquoise and half orange.
Showed me that I was home.
I was home.
I was home.
