WRITINGS PAGE ONE

Today I passed quietly and with reverence through the magnificent Canyon of Spearfish, near the land in which Crazy Horse and his people inhabited. The splendor of the snow-covered mountains and trees overwhelmed my entire being---there was only beauty to behold. My eyes knew the gift of Nature’s perfection, void of civilization and ruin. At a silver pond near the foothills, a wolf and his mate stood drinking; a herd of deer was elegantly roaming, unafraid. The descending sun painted the sky and clouds as a rainbow, testified by no man before. My soul was rendered as light and gossamer as vapor. I had somehow achieved total freedom that was, until now, unknown to me. Suddenly my breath was stilled; I was entranced as the invisible hand of my Spirit Father extended and clutched my heart. I became somber, my countenance was utterly saddened. Clearly I perceived the voices of my fallen Kindred. Ancient was the pleading and chanting I heard as it emerged from the frozen earth, lamenting the injustice, dishonor . . . and the rape of the innocents who were unquestionably pure of heart. The White blood that flowed through my veins curdled and soured like milk forgotten and left in the desert sun. I was dismayed and devastated, for I clearly heard the requiem of each tribe who had been robbed and murdered. The impact of the injustice was utterly overwhelming. Now I realize why I was born in grief, and live in perplexity, for now I know and understand why Mother Earth is Crying.