The Native

Home is in the land of plenty. Where the contradiction of homelessness resides. In the land of milk and honey, revered and honored by a native people then stolen from them. Our land, what is our land? We are all here now and we all need a piece. If we don’t own something we haven’t worked hard enough, right? Did we learn nothing from a people whose objective was to live within the only religion there is? The sacred gift of our mother, our provider.