I followed in the garden
early in the damp morning
Grandfather speaking to each
encouraging them to be strong.
We would walk before the sun
singing our ancient songs
thanksgiving and gratitude
for the plentiful abundance.
Rich dark glistening strawberries
our first harvest early summer
to the dried stalks leaning
their end of summer corn
waiting for next year's garden.
Our people know this earth as mother
a deep abiding relationship of care
we are embedded with the soil
born of sky, moon and sand.
The time is come again for harvest
hearts are waiting to be brought home
seeking a life entwined with God
aching to be planted in the Creator's garden.
Our people ache for healing touch
for freedom from the addicting darkness
an end to sorrow and deep loss
which has made us wander all too long.
We ache to be planted again
Creator sink our roots so deep
fashion us as your people again
and make us strong for the harvest to come.