Its quiet here. I watch my step for rattle snakes but don’t want to miss out on the raptors from above. They watch me too or so I think as you can almost hear their wingspan. If one were to skillfully watch and watch closely to land like this, you just might be allowed to experience all sincere desires, even the bloodthirsty ones in total innocence of which something feral looks back.
A rancher recently asked me what I see most while documenting those who have had land taken for the route of a pipeline. I thought carefully as there is a certain intonation. Its the sound of the result of wrong doing. Its not of ideology nor a fair indigenous treaty to hold injustice to. Its a reverence for a place, a sense of belonging and a helplessness due to an imbalance of law with an undeterred gaze that quietly says ‘what can we do?’.
There is no sensationalized rally, it is hardly in the news, only the raptors from above and an imminent haunt of trucks driving through carrying a pipe half the size of grown men with remnants of dust in the wake of unearthing.
I find myself having a quiet conversation with those in deeds and works that take land and destruct the wild. I wonder of the blind spot somewhere between economic drive and moral wakefulness. Somewhere in between considers us all.
A man called ‘Terence’ just recently reminded me that ‘Falling in love is a desolating experience, but not when it is with the countryside’. I have here but mostly with folk who work in the margins, with no reward, building an accretion of change while shouldering through setbacks and continuing on with the perseverance to change law.
These country folk, steadfast and bold with a march of land stewardship we all should learn from. In deep gratitude of allowing our cameras to document your efforts towards a just world and the protection of a place called the ‘Big Bend of West Texas.’ Onward.