The Kogi Tribe, Columbia
Only the birds can leave the massif
As we study our planet in miniature;
Conquer the sky, fell the trees,
And what we reap is disease.
Where once there was richness
Now cities function, cities born in the mire,
Lost cities, where focus falls foul,
Built far from the awe of nature.
Where are our monuments to beauty?
Descendants of the flourishing conquest.
How can we take care of the world?
In the heart of the earth, her hidden folds,
We are touched by a silent empathy,
We seem young and all too
Aware of our cancerous dust
And darkness we have wrought.
Cutting the heart out of the mother,
Severing our ties,
How can we look away
As she bleeds for us.
The hunting season is coming to a climax,
The world is fertile, her blood is gold,
It flows within all life.
We were given the earth in harmony,
To take care of, to nurture
And bear witness to its unfurling
In this world house
We must listen to the teachings,
The wind tells a story
Opening our hearts to remember,
Now to resurrect our inner world
With divination born of heart.
We are running around, wherever we can,
Not knowing what to do,
Far from enchantment or the rituals of soul.
Scattering our finest thoughts
Until nothing is left and, as one,
Are worthless, meaningless.
The minerals we need
Are being robbed by malice
And misplaced rationality.
The earth is innocent before us,
A noble friend,
Our one true mother;
To be adored in her sacred moods
And turning complexion.
Green disciples fixed in glory;
The earth is shaking
Can you hear the omen?
Doesn’t it stir your blood flow?
See through the smoking mirror
And venerate what is with tender care.
All people the creation of one clay,
Free to love and swim the waters of life,
Envisage a better world
And honour those dreams
With honest sacrifice and sincerity.