The Elders are Watching

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The boy looked much the same as the other kids in his class. New faces arrived almost daily from far away places, so it wasn’t his appearance that made him different. He had always tried his hardest, but try as he might, somehow he didn’t seem to be able to get excited about the same things his classmates did. This year would be no different. And so, as in years gone by, his mother would please him greatly by taking him out of school for a time. Again, she was sending him to live with his grandfather, his ‘Ya-A’ – to listen, to think and to learn. ‘Ya-A’ would reintroduce him to the Wind, the Tree and the Earth. ‘Ya-A’ would speak of responsibilities and of rights. ‘Ya-A’ would fascinate him with legends of the eagle, the whale, the raven and the wolf. Of all the tales his grandfather told, none captured his heart more than the stories of the Old Ones – the Elders. And as the stories slowly became a part of him, by the seashore in the clear red sky of early evening, he began to see them. They appeared as images suspended in the air, up toward the sun. Their lips were still, yet he heard them speak. Their message, like the words of his “Ya-A’, was clear and true, a message gone too long without being passed to other hearts. He and his “Ya-A’ would share the words of the Elders often with all those who cared to listen – with all those who cared at all. …taken from The Elders Are Watching.

Indigenous Stories
Personal and Social

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