Mining The Sacred

Mining The Sacred

Lay not your battle into the sands

But stand innocuous to these lands

Is not the song of passing moments

To be understood on spirit lips who heard prophesies of the Seven Fires

Chords of distant travelers and lonesome herds that dwindled

Caretaking was not the deed that loomed so close

But rather

The absence of a brittle tooth that snaps on a journey to the bitter truth

Payers were not the jokers of a tempest’s wanting

But rather the stalwarts of a prison crossing

From up on bridges that were too high up

That wept for what passed under

That was neither here nor there

But the movement of never resting

The spheres of an orb who could not slow down

The running of one who could not look around and see the footsteps of one’s own passing

Only the sands of time that come sifting down and around

Scattered on so many edges to never have learned

That the mining of me was of you too

Pass not this way again

But earn your step taking right

To not hurt the one you bleed from

In your reach for want for more you suck the future right into the past

It is much more when you don’t see

That what you steal is your own grandchildren

For this is more then your right to take

When you mine the sacred of you and me

What is connected into the ground is the totem of family.

LauraLee K. Harris

Dedicated to the ones fighting and dying in the Tar Sands in Fort Chipewyan, Alberta.

"Mining The Sacred" 13" x 38.5" Acrylic on Birch

Mining the Sacred : Statement

The future picture of how and where we are headed if we continue to mine the Sacred; poisoning the waters: cancers, sicknesses and more loom if we don’t stand up for what is clearly wrong.

Payers were not the jokers of a tempest wanting: We were not stupid. We knew well enough, but we were afraid of the up rising, of the police state, as the G20 people now have got a taste of. Our government does not protect ‘us’ anymore. They protect the corporations and the corporations wield greed, a special kind of sport that mines the sacred. The sacred is called sacred for a reason. You don’t mess with it. We see how poisons are killing and the hospitals are next to be booming. The corporate mobster has taken over the police. Bought them more or less and the next big business brewing and connected to water, is the hospitals. The healers come with fear. That is our prison as the police become the stalwarts of our prison crossing.

From up on bridges that were too high up, that wept for what passed under: LIFE< The Life Force This is their new algorithm. And we do it to ourselves. Money is dead but we aren’t yet because we are up here ‘safely’ on high bridges looking at what passes under in ducks, and bears, floating by from the melt down, floating by from the tailing ponds that store the poisons from the tar sands. 'Life' also refers to ourselves as women, as kwe; as life givers we are all connected. We mine the sacred parts in ourselves and each other each and every day. We are the spheres of an orb that needs to turn around, not run away from our responsibilities. That the sands of time will prove the pain we cause each other, when we continue in this way, hurting each other, slowly killing ourselves.

Pass not this way again but earn your step taking right to not hurt the one you bleed from:Yet the old are ageing as we all are and the younger generation who were raised by institutions money have want to buy: ((Nannies, Daycares) = (Life/Survival > Love and Ethics)) and money replaced home and family. Mother’s were bought too into that fantasy that 'things' factored security but it wrecked families, divorced the love that established root and stability. Imbalance of powers and lack of respect for women had women stepping up and governments saw that as more money for themselves. More work force begat more consumers. But if women stayed at home and were loved for it, honoured for it, paid for it, acknowledged for it, praised for it, rewarded for it, feasted for it, but they are not. By hurting the family we hurt our future from our past.

In your reach for want for more you suck the future right into the past:And in the manner that life operates currently, if decisions were family based within family, community based within community and within country, we wouldn’t see this imbalance hurt the one you bleed from. This mentality to hurt the one you bleed from is not Indigenous. It originated from the travellers who stole then desecrated the place they stole. It’s a circle that rather then gives to the past, takes from both the past and the future and thus gets eaten from the middle. Our souls ache with this knowledge and our body’s are dying in diseases from hurting the one we bleed from and working to buy the stuff that poisons all life. Our minds bleed from making the same mistake over and over while watching our family and friends die from diseases caused by what we are chained to like prisoners too up high. We know all this but it starts with each of us doing something toward the outside edges of ourselves.