A thousand eyes weeping it was said, filled the canyon as a riverbed;
As Creator gave a single breath, it filled with life and flourished the desert.
On foot traveling from across the lands, Grandfathers and Grandmothers to settle and break bread.
Life was a blessing and brought beast and birth, now generations later, we live by their words.
A thousand hearts weeping by the riverbed, as man has dumped waste and toxified the lands.
The Elders watch as the children swim in death.
Is this how we thank them for all they did?
River of life, flow from creation,
A gift to our people, to quench a nation.
Bathe in its ripples, drink from its depth,
Sail on its currents and eat from its dish.
Lay at the shore, all tangled and wet, a Bison of beauty poisoned by trash.
Look at our hands, the virtues of man, with all of our wisdom, we tainted the path.
We must rise to compassion and guide the children,
A sacred lesson, for the next generation.
Heal the waters, the river of life;
Give thanks for their existence,
The choices are ours.
This poem was inspired by the 13 indigenous Grandmothers who travel and teach us truth and wisdom. They speak of the waters we must take care of. From my heart for their compassion, I am grateful for all they do.