When The Earth Is Sick, The Animals

Your Religion Was Written On Tablets Of Stone, Ours On Our Hearts. 8. We Are Part Of The Earth And The Earth Is Part Of Us.

The Indian Prefers The Soft Sound Of The Wind Darting Over The Face Of The Pond, The Smell Of The Wind Itself Cleansed By A Midday Rain, Or Scented With Pinon Pine. The Air Is Precious To The Red Man, For All Things Are The Same Breath - The Animals, The Trees, The Man.

Our Religion Is The Traditions Of Our Ancestors - The Dreams Of Our Old Men, Given Them In Solemn Hours Of The Night By The Great Spirit; And The Visions Of Our Sachems, And Is Written In The Hearts Of Our People.

We Are Part Of The Earth And It Is Part Of Us. The Perfumes Flowers Are Our Sisters; The Deer, The Horse, The Great Eagle: These Are Our Brothers. All Things Are Connected Like The Blood Which Unites One's Family.

Our God, The Great Spirit, Seems Also To Have Forsaken Us. Your God Makes Your People Wax Stronger Every Day. Soon They Will Fill All The Land.