I stand in the middle of a meadow.

Stars sparkle in the night sky.

The moon’s beams embrace the

open petals of the moonflowers.

The wind plays with my hair

as she whispers into my ear.

She wants me to know,

the words of my ancestors.

She tells me

she is the voice

of the ancient ones.

Those lost to time.

She is the voice

I hear in the rain,

in the intertwined flames,

and the rumble of the land.

She tells me

her sadness,

her hunger,

and her pain.

She tells me

She is the voice

of the past,

of the present,

and of the future.

She knows why I am here.

To get back to what is true

to what is right,

back to her.

I embrace her,

the wind frees me

the fire warms me

the rain hydrates me

the land nourishes me.

I am stronger with her.

You are stronger with her.

We are stronger with her.

For, without her

death comes

to me,

to you,

to us.

Hear the voice.

Heed the call.