Mother YAIMA Live Om Culture

One Morning as the mist was lifting Ore the mountain side, Deep within the valley Where the river carved her lines, I hurried up the hillside To catch the birth day, And waited on the rocks there To meet my heart again. When finally the dawn broke free Heard a voice return, Said do not fear the changes Weve all been there before. And as my soul poured out The salt in my tears fell, And added to the lime stone One story of this tale. I went out to the holler To give her back this song, Sang for all my ancestors Waiting on the drum, They gave me every single nod To turn my head in pain, Gave me almost every sense Of courage I have gained. To now be handed all the reins Of ages left behind, Choose to work in honor Of the ones whove yet to come For when their tiny feet meet The earths golden shore, They will return the honor And sing her song once more.