“Nothing lives long
Only the Earth and the Mountains”
So goes the death song sung by White Antelope, the war chief of the Cheyennes tribe when he was killed by the white people.
Though I still cry at the fate of the Native Indian tribes, I am beginning to believe that it’s good that they are not here to see what has happened to their beloved earth and the mountains. To my beloved earth, forests and the mountains. Everywhere I go, I see signs of destruction, of greed, of a need that can never be fulfilled, of a dream that is only a mirage. But how do I tell people that? How do I tell people that all that they are seeking is right there, within the very earth, the forests and the mountains they are looting?
I dread to think what I will see in the next ten years; perhaps the Native Indians were wrong. Perhaps nothing will live long, not even the earth and the mountains. And when that happens, where will I be? Where will I live and where will I die?
“The old men say, the Earth only endures. You spoke truly, you are right.”
And along with the Earth, I also endure.