The History of My People

The History of My People

Some say there are spirits in the Earth and all around, whispers of souls long since gone from this world. I see the pain in your eyes, the loss of hope in your soul. You are my family. You came from ancestral lands exploited for labor, placed in chains. You became a symbol of inferiority to some, of bondage to others, of calamity and hopelessness to many. I see the tears you left behind. Oh spirit of my ancestors, forgive those whose hearts were like the dust of the earth.

Oh native sons and daughters whose cries of stolen land and loss of lives, pound the Earth like the coming thunder of the buffalo herds, I see your tears. I feel the spirits of my ancestors cry to me. They tell me to not forget the passage of time. Entire cultures, languages and traditions, are buried beneath centuries of pain and regret.

History, though of places and people long since gone, should not be forgotten.