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When Rivers Ran Free

Many suns have passed since my grandfather sat beside me at our campfire and led me through the days when rivers coursed through our lands without pause. He told me of rising in the morning before the Great Spirit Sun arose from upon the horizon, and as Sun’s first rays shared their warmth upon the shores of the great river, it was here that my grandfather said he had found himself many times listening to the water’s lap against the rocks that were once cast far from the lands of the north by the Great Spirit, Missoula.
My grandfather told me of the salmon spirits owning to Goddess Metlako, and of their leap far into the sky as they found great favor in that the waters ran strong beneath them, and this I was then told allowed their spirits to challenge unto their young and for their return from their life’s journey beyond our great river and within the great water’s of the setting sun.
My grandfather sat beside me many nights as the moon glimmered upon the grounds that we shared as he told of such stories as these of our people’s history upon the Land’s of Wah.
My grandfather was a great man who’s wisdom was never questioned by our peoples as he spoke of the Hyas Illahee, Great Earth, and of the trials that would soon be placed one day before us. He spoke of visions that appeared before his eyes, visions of storms that have now been seen to rise above the horizon given this very morning’s, light’s, darkened screen.
Sadly, as had my grandfather once seen, I now give witness to the Great Sun Spirit as it rises above the tainted stains that are attached to the Hyas
Tumtum’s, High Spirit’s, village.
Today, as I walk along the shoreline of this great river, I see that these water’s spirits that were once pure are now fouled as their souls have been held captive and imprisoned behind the tribes of broken stones that rise far from upon the
water’s plain.
Today, as I am not allowed to witness to the great salmon’s leap toward the heavens from within the water’s crippled stream I do hear of the salmon’s lonely plight. As the fish spirits that pass below me share the story of their distressed souls and how they have lost their course upon the great river’s trails, I find myself mournful for the fish spirit’s plight as they drift listlessly beneath my stand upon the great water’s bank, and as I stand in sorrow for what our people’s have allowed, I know they are surely destined to drift in silence toward the darkened depths well hidden by the Mesachie Tahmahnawis, Bad Spirit, of the salt chuck, ocean.
My grandfather told me that his father’s father shared stories of the great Spirit’s of Wy-East, Pahti, and of the Princess, Lawala Clough. He told of Wy-East’s and Pahti’s battle for the princess of all the lands that are attached to the Cascades, and how their battle had challenged the valleys with great smoke and fire as jealousy and suspicion arose between them of one another’s persistence. He spoke of the sun’s trails pierced with fire as long arrows and fiery lances streaked for many days far across the Great Spirit’s lands as Wy-East and Pahti released their Bad Spirits upon the kingdoms that they were privilaged and chosen to rule.
Then, with a sad heart and soft voice, my grandfather spoke of Princess’ Lawala Clough’s solitary heart as it lay untended throughout their heated casts. It has been told that as her heart then felt contempt for the brothers as they chose to scar the lands through their distempered and heated storm, she chose also not to journey to the kingdom’s of her suitors upon the burnt and blackened grounds of the Cascades for all the day’s that the sun and moon should rise and fall across all their lands.
My grandfather told me of the days when he journeyed with his father through the great mountains and valleys that rise along the Great River that was formed by Wy-East’s and Pahti’s shame, and how they stood beneath great tumwaters, waterfalls, as these water’s spirits then calmed their souls as they fell treasured
before their feet.
As I also stand beneath these tumwaters this day, the Spirits that the Land’s of Wah are treasured allow me to peer deeply into the dancing colors held within their teardrops that surrounds my stand beneath their trace. As I enter through the passageway that these colors lead my eyes to stray, I am greatly saddened to witness that the lands and rivers that our peoples had once protected through our respect for the gifts that the High Spirit had chosen for our share, shall soon disappear beneath the rising storms wrought by our own undaunted haste.
As the future of our peoples pass nearer to this day through the vision wrought by the High Spirit’s wish, I fear that our peoples will not again see these gifts awarded before us!
My vision leads me to the sight of our peoples that shall soon become lost and forever wandered upon the sand’s of the Great Desert that holds no cover from the heated breaths of the Bad Spirit. These same lands that are now gathered with the souls of many sticks, trees, as their branching arms lead to the fruited plains of the heavens from upon the lands that our people’s now survive!
I fear that our peoples shall then become challenged without support from the Hyas Tumtum of our Illahee, and we shall not survive our err!
My grandfather once shared with me the story of seeds that were cast upon our lands by the heaven’s breaths, and were once watered by the tears shed by the Hyas Illahee Tumtum, Great Earth Spirit, and these tears gave life to the sticks that stand proudly amongst our forests.
As I stand beneath the protection of these tree’s surviving brothers, the tears that should now trace steadily upon their sainted root drift silently from upon the arid trails splintered upon the High Spirit’s cheeks.
I wantonly search unto the heavens for an answer from our Hyas Tumtum, High Spirit, and as I plead before him to spare our peoples from the loss of his gifts that are treasured to these soils, I find firmly attached to the avenues that the sun now traces, and tainted far across the kingdom’s of the heavens, a red
cast as was once our own brother’s blood as they laid stained upon the
Mesachie Tumtum’s, Bad Spirit’s, grounds as they fled the wisdom cast by the Kloshe Tumtum, Good Spirit, and of their choice to not grasp given the profit of our faith before him.
This quest, as was my grandfathers before me, demands my wail before the Hyas Tumtum!
I find myself surrendered given to the thoughts of our people’s survival once we have allowed the final battle to begin, and of its promising toll of our defeat as it is unmercifully cast upon us.
I must lay question before the people’s of our Illahee of our survival without the gift of Moolock, Elk, and Mowitch, Deer, and the Hyas Chakckak, Great Eagle, as they too shall attain escape from the rape of their lands and one day wander before another’s gates and disappear upon our lands that we were so honored to have once secured!
What must we, as peoples of this Hyas Illahee yield to again allow all the river’s spirits to once again be free amongst the sanctuary that is and shall always be the Great Sun’s most honored realm?

Okoke Wawa Enkahnam
The Story Teller
12/14/2008