Tuesday, July 17, 2012

A Native Message
Sad hearted, I wandered through the burnt forest; ear turned to the summer breeze.
Upon the smoke tinged breeze floated the cries of animal and bird, warning me;
And from out behind the blackened trees, five young Indian braves surrounded me.
The five braves did not surprise me;
I heard their footsteps upon the dry ground;
Only when in drought can they be heard;
All other times, their walk is silent.

 “We come to you, our brother Wisdom, in concern over the way
 People of the earth are treating our world;
They are careless, and
They act without the respect they should have.
The earth cries out to the Red Man, for our help.
She knows we are closest to her of any man.
The sky is dry and sheds no tears;
The river, so long, and normally full to overflowing,
Now it is weak and cannot move,
Sluggish with trash-logged mud,
Dead fish, rotting in the heat;
Or wide-cracked banks that even the frogs can’t spawn in;
Where is the water?” said one brave, ribs showing in his gaunt frame.

  “They have man-made reservoirs with filter plants;” a second one said,
They drink bottled water; they think, they are fine, in their head;
Don’t they know fresh water is a scarcity?
And without it, humanity
Will crease to be?
Don’t they know that without water, trees die?
And without the trees, man will choke on his own exhalations?”

“What we breathe out is poison to us, but trees need it,” said a third brave;
“And in turn the trees give us the oxygen we crave.
Not a single breathe we take should be
Taken for granted,
Yet most of humanity
Does exactly that; well, soon mankind will learn;
One day soon, for water, we all will yearn.
No fish and no animals will be found;
And then what will there be to eat; any where to be found?”

“If plants all dry up; animals have no food, nor will we,” said the fourth man.
“The forest is brittle, and heat lightning causes brush fires.
One day soon, our home will be the one to expire.
The mountain peak that touches the sky
Needs to send down the snow
To water everything that sits below;
It will fill the streams and life can begin again.”

“Tell us, oh Brother Wisdom; what should we do,” asked the fifth man.
“I, Brother Wisdom, I speak; we must do our part, for the world to be revived;
They say even the mountain is bare; that little snow is on its slopes;
Why do you come to me, brothers?
What do you expect from me that I can do that you can’t do?
Are there no more homes for the bear and caribou?
You must keep this planet clean and safe for us all;
Both human and animal spirit alike;
Do I climb the mountain and call out to Creator,
Begging for mercy upon this earth and her people;
People know that keeping our earth clean is saving our home.
Parts of this earth have gone past help from man, in any normal way;
Only Creator can return to life what is already dead;
Only with Creator is there hope for another day.
As long as you chant to Creator; in this, you’re not in the wrong;
But whatever remains, in Creator’s hands,
It is alive and will heal itself in Creator’s time.
Only miracles from above and blessings of love;
And forgiveness of our ill ways will bring the change
That gives us a chance to continue living on this earth, our home.”

“Oh, Great Spirit, surely you hear our cry,” I continue to chant;
Hear us call out for help to save our home;
This land is where we are all free to roam;
Chant with me, oh brothers; A’ho.”

“A’ho; see our hearts are open; we are true in our request,  
We chant to you, on high, mighty Creator;
We will keep working; we will do our best.
We praise you; for you are worthy, oh Creator;
No one on Earth could ever be greater;
Creator of this universe; Creator of the way;
We praise you; oh, let the healing rains come this day.
We will all do what we must do.
Let the blistering curse across this land be no more.
Let this world, our mother, be the jewel of beauty
In the sky that she is; and we upon her surface,
Let us be content and happy. A’ho.”
Raise arms high and chanting; “Creator, show us your concern; A’ho.”

And as we look up, down falls the wet cooling rain;
A healing balm to this thirsty world comes once again;
“A blessing from Creator; there is hope once more; A’ho;
Earth returns to her previous state, once again;
Beautiful is our world, once more pollution free.
New life in abundance;
Joy in every step of life’s dance.”
Six Natives go back into the forest, returning home.
“Blessed be this earth; A’ho;
Praise to the Creator who loves this earth so much, A’ho.”

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