Tuesday, February 15, 2011

ᏗᎦᏕᎶᏆᏍᏗ

Ꭷ the ᎡᎶᎯ it changing.  ᏂᎪᎯᎸ, but revolution is the crisp scent of spring after the bitter cold velveteen blanket melts back into the soil; the rich black of the earth beckons the new, after the piercing reflection fro a mirror of white.  Ꭷ it’s time for change.

Our cycle, new and renewing seeks the inevitable change like the ᏴᏫ ᎦᏅᎯᏓ of the river seeks the depths of the sea.  The cycle persists and opportunity, like hope is a constant ᎦᏄᎪᎦ, unyielding and ever present.  There will always be another frost but we know the the path of the ᏅᏙ ᎢᎦ ᎡᎯ as she ascends closer to her apex is a promise of new things and bold scents to come on the heels of the spring thaw.

As dictators fall and fascists kneel, ᎡᎶᎯ takes a much needed breath of fresh hope; a time will come when we all have a choice to make and a promise to fulfill.  Each of us has been given a purpose and a means to carry it out, those poor souls that have more than one must not only discern their path, but must also prioritize their destinations.  Our natures reveal that we are created with a purpose.  We must refine ourselves, lest our complacency draw its own challenges to temper and whittle down our will and pride, to mold us to meet greater needs.  It is a good time to kindle our vision from a spark to a bright ᎠᏓᏪᎳᎩᏍᎬ and cast our reaching scope to the waters to pull our dreams to the shoreline and share them with our families, and communities.  Let the old sandcastles crumble and wash out the darkness into the depths of the deepest waters.

We have, in our ᏗᎦᏚᎯ, decided to plant a seed.  We hope to nourish the tiny seedling as it pushes through the ᎦᏓ.  Its a delicate time, a time to prepare.  We hope to guard it close and watch it bud, and when it blooms ᎠᏥᎸᏍᎩ, it will bear fruit and dig its roots deep in the fertile soil of our community.  The young hearts and minds will have shelter when we lay the foundation for a place of learning ᎢᏗᏏᎾᏍᏗ ᏗᎦᏕᎶᏆᏍᏗ. 

Looking back at our past, even the golden years, our people have never fully realized the dream that is our way.  The best is yet to come.  Sometimes it’s easy for me to get discouraged, as ᎢᎩᏬᏂᎯᏍᏗ and ᎢᏯᏛᏁᎵᏓᏍᏗ slip through our fingers.  Every time i go to a place of mourning and memorial and the last handshake’s dust and sand slips of my palm down into the tomb, I know the hour glass is just that much closer to empty. Time is not on our side.

I can’t help but be afraid of the falling sky as the earth shakes and crumbles, but ᎤᏚᎩ ᎠᏋᏌ.  When I look around I see Champions, my brothers and sisters holding one another up, ᏗᎾᏟᎯ for the children, the beloved elders and the way ᏚᏳᎪᏛ.  I can see their faces and the stone in their souls.  The ᎠᏥᎸ ᎠᎦᏴᎵ lives there and they will not give up, we will not fail.

ᏍᎩᏯᏁᎳᏅᎯ ᎢᎦᏁᎳᏅᎭ ᎢᏍᎩᏍᏕᎵᏍᎩ ᎾᏍᎩ ᏭᏂᎦᎵᏍᏓ
ᎣᏏᏳ ᎠᏯ ᏩᏕ ᎦᎵᏍᎨᏫ ᏥᎪᏪᎸᎦ

1 comment:

Deb Hair said...

Powerful and heart wrenching yet uplifting all in one. I feel this slipping through my fingers so much lately. Wado. You are such an inspiration to me. Keep blogging. Others will read and post when it's time. Wonderful medicine!