feathers


high desert

the look of love in your eyes

the look of love in your eyes
looking out over the land,
watching the heat lightening of summer
light up the night sky, streaks slicing through darkness,
shows you have true connection to her, love her deeply.
often you are staring off into the surrounding canyons,
or feeling the heat rise from the desert sands,
knowing everything around you is sacred,
holding deep meaning and so much a part of your life.

then you look around
at the destruction of this land
caused by those who know not its true value
but who are governed by the green they see
as they rip apart Mother Earth,
casting caution to the winds, not thinking
how this affects others, how this affects you.
and sadly you watch as She screams out in pain.
when will they learn this is not the way?

other places the building continues, the land disappears,
nothing but a concrete jungle covering the space
that was once so open and so free,
filled with beauty unlike that seen anywhere else,
but they don't think; they don't seem to care.
flash that green in front of their eyes,
and nothing is the same, ever will be again.
stealthily it moves closer to the mountains,
eating all in its wake by those driven by the dollar.

the land cries out in pain as She is ripped apart,
the blasts tearing at Mother Earth's liver,
and tears fill your eyes watching this destruction,
knowing it cannot continue, not if we are to survive.
you watch these others and those holding ordinances
telling some to reduce their livestock herds,
saying they are breaking the law, but whose law,
that prefabricated to line the pockets of a few in green?
it is them who you watch out for, constant vigilance.

it is the simple, the innocent who will win.
too many stand at their sides, saying this cannot happen,
that it's time to return to that time when all is respected.
there are some who are not who they purport themselves to be,
though not a common fairy tale. there will be no relocation,
no, that would cause the unacceptable, cultural genocide,
an unconscionable crime that continues today, but will be stopped.
you know all this is so, and you smile with the knowledge.
the right time is coming. things will be as they were before.

yes, things will return as Creator meant them to be.




running wolf
the wolf is my messenger







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feathers

"We will be known by the tracks
we leave behind."

Dakota Proverb


copyright © 30 May 2001, by louve14
revised 15 january 2004
all rights reserved