Hanta Yo

It was book I read in years past.....by a certain Ruth Beebe Hill...

...it talked of the Sioux nation.......their unwritten history.....but most of all.....it talked of the love for the land that Native Americans professed and lived by......

I remembered of it upon reflection of a discussion with someone far from here.....how unwittingly, I too have fallen prey to the unheard whispers of the land....

.....it is the language now lost to those of us who have become the city dwellers.....immersed as we are in concrete jungles with stifling air....and stifled souls......

....there is a pulse within the land......it breathes new life in every dawn......it pleases your soul as you pass you fingers through the soil......it feeds the yearn for us to be.......

...the land lives within it's own rules.......it gives new life as it takes from that which has passed......it blooms to feed all those who are hungry......it nourishes all.....irrespective of color, creed or species......it nourishes life.....

...and yet...in our mad pursuit for power, fame and glory.....we have discarded the land.....we have plundered and we have raped.....in the sake of our endless quest for fulfillment......

And yet the land still sustains.......if only we allow ourselves to listen to it's breathing........the breath of life.....