Men have to hunt
Maybe if they cannot
Do it to feed
Themselves
They have to hunt
One
Another.
We took your country
Where civil wars
Plagued
You
As though
Starvation
Plagued
My ancestors.
We came
More behind us
Even more
Still want a
Taste of
The American
Dream.
It was your land
My land is England
Southern Ireland, Sweden
Norway
So far away
That I will
Only see
On electronic waves
Of light.
Watching a movie named
THUNDERCLOUD
As sponge I am
Drawing in the
Plight of native
American life like
Water in a
Straw.
Riding you land was
Once
One of my favorite things
To do
Up and down hills of
Highway 11, Oregon
The Blue Mountains
Rise to greet me
Like a hand from
God.
I could shape shift then
Eagle flying
Free
In the wind
Ten to forty miles per
Hour
Strong squaw with power
Or I was a white-tailed deer
I had no fear of
Log trucks going by
Within inches of my body
At 60 miles a hour.
The Umatilla and Cayuse
Tribes
Live here and
As far as I know
They do not want
My scalp
Only my respect
For nature
And the old ways.
I have lived here
A long time
Now I feel like it's
A crime
I take your land
From long ago
And speak of it
In poetry
To know
I am only a guest
Of the Earth
Only own what is
In
My heart
The air I breathe
Is all that's
Free.
Will learn about
Something more
Important than
Norwegian death metal
Tonight
As the waning moon
Pulls me just right
Into the sky
Where I become
Someone who is
Strong and young.
Been kind to the
Old
Been kind to
The disabled
Sometimes you have
To put your
Hand
Upon a table
To look
To see the beauty
In being old.
Get afraid
Get better
Write reams
Of poetry
As letters
To myself
So someday I may
Know the wealth
Of the land
As we will die and
It will stand!
