When you drove the last of the people to an unwanted, barren bit of land you swore it would be ours as long as the grass is green and the waters run.
You promised all the children who donated pennies that wild horses and burros would be safe as you signed into law the Wild Horse Annie Act.
We handed you over control of the endangered animals of our country and you solemnly started a count and took our funds to care for and protect them. We sighed with relief when the last of our wolves were taken into the fold.
When others complained about government intrusion we defended your efforts on conservation and protection of the innocence of the land.
You’ve leased out the national land for next to nothing to ranches and when they complained about the horses and burros taking too much water you quietly changed the law. Horses run into the ground by helicopters, burros shot, the herds that ran those hills gathered up and removed. But the grass is still green and the waters run so we are silent.
You are handing back our wolves to the sport of blood and dog baiting. They dissolve back into the midst of soon to be forgotten dreams. The grass is sparse but still struggles to grow green and water trickles past the thirsty herds of cattle marching across the ancestral lands you stole.
Someone said they found gas deep below the lands. The last blade of grass shivers in the cold winds and searches futilely for the water denied it by the thirst for fracking fluid. How long before you justify the final dissolution of the treaty by pointing at barren drought and smiling over its expiration of terms?
The only thing golden about silence is the money others make from our quiet acceptance of their actions.
Tsuchur 