Excerpt from “The Shelter” by Les Tate
I close my eyes and imagine I can hear
The sounds of old ones
Talking about the past and the future,
The men and women working at the day’s chores
While they watch their children and grandchildren
Playing and laughing;
Later sitting quietly and listening,
Passing the history of our people
From generation to generation,
The old and the young together as a family, as a people,
stories and songs now held in the crevised wall.
I feel that I have been here before, that I belong,
Part of the past, part of the present.
A tear rolls down my cheek joining the spring rains which have begun to fall.
Spuzzum Nation Elders Honoured
