Quietly I sit here with the land, the soft earth recites for me a story.
Grandfather, it is said sat with the land, cultivated the soils.
Strange waters rained, from tainted rivers evaporating, the land grew barren.
Child he would say, the trees hold the medicine of many moons and suns.
As you sit with the great oaks, you sit with keepers.
Even the earth beneath them has lessons to teach.
Out across grasslands, no fire could burn as deeply as the miles walked for freedom.
Blood of truth, of hands raised to the vast and endless sky mark the clouds.
The land is greater then history; it never left the earth.
What we have given this soil, what has sewn into crops and waters is Spirit.
Tears, love, the promise of a new dawn rest waiting in this land.
Listen child, watch child, return all you take child.
All you need will be given in grace, pass this on to your kin.
Teach them of the butterflies, the sun and the winds.
Show them the seas and how to respect them.
Leave them seeds to grow,
The earth is a healer, a gift from God.