Sheila Williams ~ Singing Cloud
Awarded: May 9, 2008Torn between two worlds the one seen by eyes, the one held within my mind, upon my knees heart and body ripped with sobbing, prayers said my soul is begging, why can we not make the changes?
Lands sweet kissed by spring, soft rains calling forth the greens, hills rolling into the soft cloud scattered blue skies, awi unafraid to bring forth her young to feed on tender shoots of dew sprinkled grasses.
Cityscapes grey tinged and dingy, air so thick with poisons one cannot breath, bumper to bumper traffic, raging at one another ready to kill for a place of parking, more poison sprayed to kill the grass daring to break through their precious concrete.
Gently rolling hills covered with clover, forest thick with mystery and shadow, tsisdu, saloli, and dila, play beneath the branches, Awohali circles high, tawodi too patrols the sky, as they pass the small ones duck or dive for cover.
Why grandmother must I see both worlds through one set of eyes, why can I not be free of the hurting these things bring, the knowledge of what has been lost, do you understand what this does to my simple mind?
While the dogwood and redbud bloom, heralding the world’s renewing; why do I see, instead of peaceful scenes, the glaring squares of yonegas buildings, sharp edges, so precise, box like buildings everyone, such a contrast to the softness of the gentle circle?
Such a cutting slice of difference, so unbalanced in their stark cold intrusion, built upon lands that should be growing, clutters of things they are hoarding, no room between for roses, no wild vines that hold berry sweetness, no wild grape, or razz berry for the gather.
Shaking hard inside and out, close to madness with these sights, far too many life times combined, those I see through ancients eyes, of what should be, and what is now, my mind screams at what progress has cost us.
What is it that you ask, ancient ones who call my name, what can I do, one small human with no education, no status that demands a hearing, it is no more what it once was, there is no longer council where a woman’s voice has honor, there may it be no one who listens.
No longer do the Elders speak, there is no respect for human beings; there is no caring in these strange children, to them only gold holds true value, flash and glitter, changing places, spouses now are like trash for disposal, as are their children.
They cover Mother Earth with layers, they do not wish their things to be dirtied, there is no value to them, of the green and growing thing before them; they could not tell you the difference between mint and blackberry; left alone to gather they would soon perish.
Is this to be the way of our own children, are these then to be their Heroes, these cold and selfish people, who no longer care about each other, who live only for self destruction, who live in fear of our animal kin, who kill the birds in ignorance.
Their own foods they poison, growing excess for the profit, and our kind are simply watching, so beaten down they fear teaching, too afraid to reach out, who is to blame, we all are, around, and around my mind chases, looking for a way out.
And my prayers pour forth, please do not show to me these two worlds, do not torture me with pictures, if there is nothing I can do, if there is no way to reach them, as pain rips through my spirit, tears raining from my soul, I look around me and realize it is my being that is shattered!
©Copyright April 8, 2008 by Sheila Williams ~ Singing Cloud