The Passing

THE PASSING

Who are we to question?
We knew our destiny.
This land cannot be fought for,
And won for either hand.
It is its own, this stony place,
And it no man may own.

The soil of this land is hard,
As hard as white man's heart.
The heat that in this place is,
Is the temper of that man.
But the land is fragile
And, as with us, declines.
But the land is beautiful,
And loved by many humans
For many hundred years.

From the time the world began
We knew our destiny.
The white man came and took the land,
Although it was not owned.
We are no threat, we cannot be,
We no longer have the power.
The white man's sickness is among us,
So soon we'll be no more.

We cannot tell the future now,
We cannot see the end,
But once 'twas said that when we go
This land will be no more.
We were here for the land,
The land was here for us.
So close the bond between the two,
Together both will go.

This land, it is so beautiful,
The cactus, thorn and stone.
It is our home and always will,
Although we're made to go.
Not many of our friends remain
To keep the spirits moving,
To tell our tales, and fight for us.
No! We will not die in vain!