Voices of All Our Relations: Separation’s Grief

The Trees recognize the ways we stand unconsciously - our bones shaking from the numbing paralysis of our severed Roots.

The Birds watching blindness color our eyes.

The Soil feels our reluctancy to embrace them, to feel them underneath our nails, the resistance to their presence in our homes, on our bodies, in our foods.

The Sweetgrass misses our songs, our prayers, our loving touch - so they disappear until the songs return.

The Moss misses our bare skin and the ways we cautiously walked with them.

The Waters patiently holding the tears of immense grief that has been too large for our bodies to hold.

The Rocks sense our resistance to the emotions buried deep within our Hearts.

They see the drum of our heart beating out of rhythm, our eyes that seek more, our feet that ache from the distance between them and the Earths Body, they wait patiently for our Return.

They wait as we travel through the modern world, with ancient hearts that bleed of the One. They graciously have agreed to hold us in these moments of sleep, until we are ready, until we regain consciousness and stand beside them with water flowing from our tired eyes, our toes embedded in the living soil, being held up by the Tree Nation, present to the Winds of the East sweeping into our body, as our Grief streams into the millions of years old Moss that remind us of our soft, sincere hearts woven from the same basket of life.

Until then, Separation’s Grief will color the skies, poison our Waters, and strip away the bark of Diversity.