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When one of the first settlers asked a Native American, 
“What do you call this land?”
He shrugged his shoulders and scratched his head…
“It has no name…
it’s shared by all
we call it ours.”he said. 

The other day we visited sacred Indian mounds built by people we didn’t know
Temple mounds and burial grounds constructed a thousand years ago.

The mounds were built next to a river and as we watched clouds drift in the sky
we were blessed as quietly in that river a family of manatees came floating by.

And I thought as we stood in the shade and comfort of two beautiful old oak trees
how they have a lot in common…Indians and manatees.

How they lived in tandem with the land honest sincere direct
taking only what they needed…treating all things with respect.

How they shared this land together…. for oh so many years
until our ancestors came across the ocean and chose to settle here.

Chose to endanger their way of life, who they were…who they would be
threatening their individual journeys…endangering their history.

And today when I look a Indians and Manatees I see all that we hijacked
how we’ve left them, through our greed and arrogance, with scars upon their backs.

And I wondered as we climbed reverentially to the top of the temple stairs
how they must wish for a time when America was not America…
just a land they both called…theirs.

for a time when they shared the land, 
the rivers 
and the trees
for a time when they were happy 
being Indians and manatees.

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