nativepoetry3

I am the one who moves gently across this land, extending my love for every small parcel of it across the whole, in a protective energetic gesture much as a mother might place around her wandering pup. Everyplace one of my paws rests, there is beauty. I stand in forest; I stand in marsh; I stand in meadow; I lap the water of streams; I stand in sacred aspen groves; I stand on turquoise green and red stones; I stand on moss; I follow tracks of elk, bear, and deer; I stand on footprints of two-leggeds; I stand on grass; I stand on snow; I slip through mud. With each step, I feel joy throbbing up from the center of Mother Earth. All the violence and damage that have been done to Her by two-leggeds have not yet stilled Her bubbling, ecstatic heart.

My mate has gone, and I must be careful where I move, for some who see even my tracks would want me dead. What a strange feeling it is never to have harmed someone and yet have them want to make you dead with their long-reaching fire and with such a strange intensity. I am glad for my nose and my ears; in most circumstances, they keep me well away from danger.(I do not include the name of my people because so many seem to fear us and wish us harm.)

I am not given to much pondering or speculation, but I do wonder sometimes about these two-legged creatures whom Creator has placed upon Mother Earth. What gift do they bring? I know that each unique being brings a gift, but I have seen nothing from the two-leggeds that enhances the life of all. They simply crowd into a place, as they are doing all around here, and do with it as they will. What I have seen is the energetic vibration--the song of the Earth, which I can actually see---is dulled, dimmed, and made somehow unharmonic. It is unpleasent to watch, yet their people seem not to notice or else thrive upon it someway.

Yet I do recall one older male two-legged who is very different. He is elderly now and does not venture forth so much; yet we have been friends for many years. He moves more gently and gracefully that others I have seen. Although he does not walk slowly, there is fluidity to his movement that does not disturd. Maybe it is that his inner song matches the song of life around him and that he has not dulled it in the same way that all others do.

I have watched two-legged children, especially in the old days when they more often roamed the forests and meadows, who had the same energy. They seemed not to be so aggressively "going somewhere" but rather let the life around them draw them in meandering paths of exploration and joy. They seem more like my children, who are drawn to sniff the scent of anything that moves across the nearby land; their paths are seldom straight but wiggle and cross over and go back around and wander off one way and the other. As the pups grow older, they move down game trails in a much more purposeful way, but it is not harsh. Their paws are soft.

Thinking of the way my people move reminds me of my name. I am called by a sound that tells about color of my coat certainly; yet more important, it tells of the energy I carry, the way I move, the light yet dark that I blend to perfection. "Silver Shadow" is as near as I can say it to you, although it is much more than that.

Maybe those are human words he called me--that quiet one to whom I became so accustomed. It was almost as if we became each other's family, for when I was lonesome after my mate's death, I would go near to his cabin and he somehow felt me there. He would come out and sit resting against a huge old white pine in the sunlight, near me but never looking directly at me. Then he would sing: beautiful songs that I soon began to recognize as songs of love. In reality, perhaps they were songs of lost love--plaintive songs that made my heart yearn for my mate, her beauty, her grace, her kind and loving ways, her power, her caring for our pups.

Over time, I began to sense that he too, had lost a loved one and that he, like me, would never take another mate. He would hold that loving place in his heart, cherishing her and talking with her in the Beyond Place. Maybe it was I could see her spirit shimmering and dancing to his songs. I don't know. What I do know is eventually I would let him see me, and he would greet me with golden energy streaming from him. It became a habit that first summer for us to lie about where we could see each other or sometimes go on long walks together. Although we never approached really close, just seeing each other occasionally would give us a feeling of companionship.

We finally got so we could exchange simple thoughts, althought they came as images more than words. I would see that he was going to go to the spring to fill his water carrier and then go on up a certain trail. I would move off and be waiting for him along the way. He would nod in acknowledgment when he saw me, always sending that joyful energy toward me, and continue along his way. I would follow at my own pace or sometimes cut across so that he would find me in front of him. At this, he would be surprised and delighted, and soon I began to lead our walks, I think he liked to see my huge footprints on the trail, for he would chuckle and talk to them. He always seemed to be telling me how fine I was, how able, how agile, how intelligent, how cunning, how playful, how kind. I never remember a harsh word or feeling from him.

Ah, just speaking of him, I miss our times together. I realize, in thinking of him, that I am lonely. I am lonely, and I almost fear these days to sing that loneliness out. My howling call brings danger instead of solice.

So I share these things with you as a way of inviting you deeper into my life and understanding. What is important as we move forward in this time is the connection of our hearts in Oneness and joy. That will solve all of our problems, no matter the sphere of life in which we rest.

I will dare to call out this day. I will dare to sing the song of my heart, my loneliness, my sadness at the seperation I feel, in hopes that some one of you may hear it, recognize it as your own, and open your heart. Whatever small thing might come of it will be good.

Listen.....You will hear my call echoing down from the high ridges where I stand in a opening that looks far out over the valley, lake, and mountain ridge. You will hear my song no matter how far away in space or time you may think you are.

Taken From:
The Last Ghost Dance by Brooke Medicine Eagle