I'm not here
Don't stand by my grave and weep
For I am not there,I do not sleep
I am a thousand winds that
I am the diamonds glint on snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autums rain
awaken in mornings hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quite birds in circle flight
I am the soft stars that
shine at night
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there,I did not die.
Now you will feel no rain,
for each of you will be shelter for the other
Now you will feel
for each of you will be warmth to the other.
Now there is no loneliness,
for each of you will be companion
to the other.
Now you are two persons,
but therer is only one life before you.
Go now to your dwelling to enter
the days of your life together
And may your days be good
and long upon earth.
Dream song/Twisted Hair
by Little Wolf
This is the way of it, Let
the story be lighted.
let our circle be strong and full of medicine.
hear me...this is my dream song that I am singing
This is my power song that has taken my edge.
This is my talking birth song for a new day.
rock medicine, the talking tree,the singing water.
Listen....I am dancing underneath you.
it is a memory...it
is a river...it is a chant...it is a canoe on a river.it is a memory from long ago...it is an arrow in flight...it is a medicine
story...it is what happend long ago...it is a bead in a story belt...it is a memory.
it is what has been forgotten.it
is a camp fire...it is the smell os sweetgrass and cedar and prayers to the skyfather.
it is a life...a tradition...the
way it has always been done by the people. it is a campfire...it is the feel of warmth and the sound of voices.
am dancing underneath you.
Dancing on the shore of a river in the moonlight,Calling me to the campfire to sit and
listen to the people and remember.
Listen...I am dancing underneath you.
By Chief Seattle
Every part of this land is sacred to my people.
Every shining pine needle,
Every sandy shore, Every mist in the dark woods, Every clearing and humming insect is holy in the memory and experience of
my people.The sap which courses through the trees carries the memories of the red man.
We are part of the earth and
it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sisters.The deer,The horse,The great eagle,
these are our brothers. The
rocky crests,The juices in the meadows,The body heat of the pony,and man...all belong to the same family.
man without the beast? If all beast were gone,man would die from great loneliness of spirit.For what happends to the beast,soon
happends to man.All things are connected.
The earth does not belong to man; man belongs to the earth.
not weave the web of life;He is mearly a strand of it.What ever he does to the web,he does to himself.
we know. Our god is the same god. This earth is precious to him. Even the white man cannot be exempt from the common destiny.We
may be brothers after all, we shall see.
Once I was in Victoria and i saw a very large house. they told me it was a bank, and that the white men place their money
there to be taken care of, and that by and by they got it back with intrest.
We are Indians, we have no such bank, but when we have plenty if money blankets, we give then away to other cheifs and
people, and by an by they return with intrest, and our hearts feel good. our way of giving is our bank.