I was here when the sky didn’t have a name.
Before people made maps
and told the wind where to go.
I walked through the valleys when they were still alive,
when mountains whispered names of stars not born yet.
I drank from rivers with no end,
and slept under trees that didn’t cast shadows.
Then I saw you.
You came with bare feet,
not to rule,
but to listen.
You learned the land by feeling it,
like a child learns a mother’s heartbeat.
You sang to the corn,
you prayed with smoke,
and your children ran with the wind.
I saw you build homes from wood and dreams.
Then I saw them burn —
taken by fire, steel, and silence.
I saw you taken.
Your language buried.
Your names forgotten.
But I also saw your eyes —
and they still had fire.
I’m not your god.
I’m not a weapon.
I’m the earth that remembers you.
I carry your pain in my bones,
your songs in my heart,
your strength in my breath.
When the world forgets you —
I won’t.
I am the bear that watches.
Not from the sky,
but beside you.
I remember you,
even when you forget your own name.
And when the wind changes,
and the drums return,
I will be there —
not to roar,
but to welcome you home
.
#NativeAmerican #Indigenous Native Cultures Consortiums
