The President in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land. But how can you buy or
sell the sky? The land? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the
sparkle of the water, how can you buy them?
Every part of this earth is sacred to my people. Every shining pine needle, every sandy shore,
every mist in the dark woods, every meadow, every humming insect. All are holy in the memory
and experience of my people.
We know the sap which courses through the trees as we know the blood that courses through our
veins. We are part of the earth and it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sisters. The bear,
the deer, the great eagle, these are our brothers. The rocky crests, the juices in the meadow, the
body heat of the pony, and man, all belong to the same family.
The shining water that moves in the streams and rivers is not just water, but the blood of our
ancestors. If we sell you our land, you must remember that it is sacred. Each ghostly reflection in
the clear waters of the lakes tells of events and memories in the life of my people. The water’s
murmur is the voice of my father’s father.
The rivers are our brothers. They quench our thirst. They carry our canoes and feed our children.
So you must give to the rivers the kindness you would give any brother.
If we sell you our land, remember that the air is precious to us, that the air shares its spirit with
all the life it supports. The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also receives his last
sigh. The wind also gives our children the spirit of life. So if we sell you our land, you must keep
it apart and sacred, as a place where man can go to taste the wind that is sweetened by the
meadow flowers.
Will you teach your children what we have taught our children? That the earth is our mother?
What befalls the earth befalls all the sons of the earth.
This we know: the earth does not belong to man, man belongs to the earth. All things are
connected like the blood that unites us all. Man did not weave the web of life, he is merely a
strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.
One thing we know: our god is also your god. The earth is precious to him and to harm the earth
is to heap contempt on its creator.
Your destiny is a mystery to us. What will happen when the buffalo are all slaughtered? The wild
horses tamed? What will happen when the secret corners of the forest are heavy with the scent of
many men and the view of the ripe hills is blotted by talking wires? Where will the thicket be?
Gone! Where will the eagle be? Gone! And what is it to say good-bye to the swift pony and the
hunt? The end of living and the beginning of survival.
When the last Red Man has vanished with his wilderness and his memory is only the shadow of a
cloud moving across the prairie, will these shores and forests still be here? Will there be any of
the spirit of my people left?