Gentle Dignity

GENTLE DIGNITY

Diluted by generations, purity and history lost,
no link to roots -- to tribe.

Indian blood flows through my twenty-first century veins, and a kinship with nature, a rapport with the people who treated the earth with gentle dignity, knowing it succored them, remains.

Spring draws me inexorably to the soil -- to plant, to grow. I see evidence of God in the sky, the trees, each slender blade of grass, and the tiny ant working diligently at my feet.

I see Him in all things natural, as did my forefathers.

Anger shakes me when I see what modern man is doing to our world -- and to the people in it.

The essence of simplicity was provided to us by our Maker; yet we strive to build and improve upon His gifts, bringing only destruction.

The plains are covered over with concrete, turning warm beauty to cold ugliness for the sake of progress.

We have buildings that reach to heaven, machines to perform the most simple tasks, but our connection with the earth is gone, and with it our dignity.

End