The Story of a Simple People
 

We were such a simple people

We lived in small villages

Lived off the land

With the land

Built our homes

From mud and straw

And at night

Sat around the fire

Danced

Sang

And thanked the spirits

For all the gifts they brought us

As we beat upon our drums

Then one day people came

Like us 

But different

They came seeking shelter

Freedom from oppression

We understood 

We knew how important freedom was

We offered to help them

Share with them our land

This is how it began

 

More of them came

They saw how beautiful it was here

This was the Land of Plenty

It seemed to stretch out forever

But they were not like us

They wanted to own the land

Divide it

Among themselves

We became the heathens

The barbarians

Less than they were

We didn’t count

We saw the way they lived

And could not understand

We didn’t fit in

So we left moved away

Or tried to

But everytime we did

 They followed

This was the Land of Plenty

Just not for us

 

We tried to live with them

Warn them 

We saw where their path would take them

But we were the heathens

Our spirits didn’t count

They saw the trees as property

The water as property

And put so much value on shiny stones

Wherever we moved

That is where they wanted to be

We could not move far enough away

There became no far away

When we finally decided that we had to fight

For our land

It was too late

There were so many of them

And they were so much better 

At killing than we were

They always wanted to make peace

Sign treaties

All in a language than we did not understand

Just to find a way

For them to take our homes

And move us to places they thought 

That they would never want to live

But never 

Never came

For they always seemed to want 

That land too

 

Finally there was no land left

They had spread across the Land of Plenty

Divided it all up

From sea to shining sea

This was no longer our land

It was theirs

We had to share 

In their freedom

Their country

If we didn’t 

We would have to move away 

Or die

But there was no place to move to

We took the scraps of land they offered

And allowed them to call them reservations

Even though to us

They were no more than a prison

Which has no walls

We can still live in houses of mud and straw

But most want houses

Built just like theirs

We can still sit around the fires at night

But most have forgotten 

The names and language of our spirits

Things have changed

We have changed

But we are a patient people

For we know how things will turn out

 

You see 

What they have forgotten is

That in nature there is a balance

The trees feed the sky with the air

The sky feeds the ground with its water

The animals live off the water

And the vegetation that grows on the land

And we live off the animals

They keep poisoning the air

Tainting the water

Cutting down the trees

And killing off the animals

Just so they can have a place to live

What they call living

Even a blind man can see where this road leads

Sooner or later

All will come to an end

They will either change 

Die off

Or find someplace else to go

And we will still be here

Those of us that are left

Living in our houses 

Made of straw and mud

Living again off nothing but the land

And at night

We will still be sitting around our fires

Singing and dancing

And praying to the spirits

As we beat upon our drums

 

Ed Roberts 4/13/01