We burn our smudge
\nand its embers purify us all
\nWe play upon our sacred
\nflutes
\nthe music that does call
\nWe stand here on this ancient land
\nOur drums we softly pound
\nWe manifest the great enlightenment
\nthat is around<\/p>\n
We recognize the obvious
\nThe phenomenal display
\nWhat is perceived as radical
\nWe feel it pass away
\nReflective concentration
\nOur eyes and minds perceive
\nThe greatness of the
\nWilderness
\nWhere alone we can achieve<\/p>\n
The vastness of the Universe
\nThe brilliance of the Light
\nThe wonders of the planet
\nThe gift some have of Flight
\nThe love we feel for others
\nThat bond that is within
\nThe colours of the rainbow world
\nAnd the evil that is sin<\/p>\n
Our breath creates the moment
\nThe smudge creates the world
\nWe indigenous live side by side
\nWith others who once hurled
\nTheir thoughts into our consciousness
\nWho have lost the ancient ways
\nWho know little of our culture
\nAnd the power to so amaze<\/p>\n
We are the first people
\nOur cultures set in stone
\nOur ancestors still live on this land
\nWhere the mountain winds have thrown
\nGreat boulders and great crevices
\nAcross this land today
\nIn the smudge smoke I can hear the words
\nOf my father far away<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I can’t start to think how the indigenous must feel, the nation that they gave birth to, who massacred many of them and now celebrates that murdering spell with Thanksgiving, who have witnessed in their lives the theft of their lands and the criminality on their families Continue reading