When they buried the children

What they didn’t know

They were lovingly embraced

By the land

Held and cradled in a mother’s heart

The trees wept for them, with the wind

they sang mourning songs their mother’s

didn’t know to sing

bending branches to touch the earth

around them. The Creator cried for them

the tears falling like rain.

Mother Earth held them

until they could be found.

Now our voices sing the mourning songs.

with the trees. the wind. light sacred fire

ensure they are never forgotten as we sing

JUSTICE

Listening. 👂 Learning. 🧠 Talking. 🗣️ On repeat and in that order. Rest now, little ones. And let us make room for and acknowledge all of the truth and the stories. 📚 For only when you are acknowledged, will you rise.