Submitted By: jettkeyser@gmail.com – Click to email about this post
Wishing all whatever goodness can be seen
in the founding of our land, a land we call home.
in the founding of our land, a land we call home.
Broken Harvest
“The old cedar are gone, as the buffalo
are gone. The ones who were here,
those who walked in sacred shadows,
breathing in the majesty of immense
branches, they are all gone now.”
In the twilight of morning dreams,
a voice came, “Listen to the wind
as it passes over this broken land,
understand the grief across these
burned and shattered slopes. They
are all gone now and we are here.
Rising time has come. As fertile,
ripened seeds, our voices will carry.
Together, in this turning of our lives,
mountains and rivers and the clouds
passing can hold bright, new
generations, as beauty returns
in a lost and forsaken land.”