Indigenous

Indigenous - a word we say, as if its soul has worn away. No beating heart, no sacred flame, just dates and tribes without a name. We call it progress, praise the new, yet lose the things we never knew. The sky as teacher, earth as friend, a wisdom with no need to bend. Wouldn’t it be something rare, to simply sit and just be there? Not photograph, define, or tread, but hear what silence leaves unsaid. Perhaps the ones we called “untamed” left something vital, now unnamed. A way to walk with earth instead, and hear the wisdom of the dead.