Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

Red road, white road

In my mind, runs deep a thousand memories of
My ancestors fighting for what they believed in,
But not getting what they had bargained for,
For they were lied to.
It angers me but I don’t resent anyone,
Least of all the white and red blood
That swirls in my veins,
Because in the end, it all pounds to the beat
Of deerskin drums and cedar flutes,
And Indian voices singing Indian words.
I am as much Indian as I want to be,
Regardless of what it says in my blood
And I would be honored to teach anyone,
White or not,
What I have learned with my stay in this world,
Some of it Native American, some of it not.
I’ve lived out my life walking down the red road,
But I have also traipsed along the white road,
Paved with a different kind of learning.
Full blooded Indian or fully Caucasian,
I would have loved this culture,
Because it’s all about whom I am in my soul.
I’ve traded in my one-sidedness and have
Just been me.
Maybe I have built my house along the red road,
And have dallied on the white roadside,
But the thing of it is,
I was meant to be this kind of spiritual,
This kind of soul, this kind of being, this kind of person.
People have always called me the hybrid Indian,
And I am tired of being mad about it,
I am two things,
Have two sets of ancestors,
Have two sets of traditions to learn (to those who’ll teach it to me),
Have two sets meshed into one,
And they made me,
And if I were never recognized for being fully white,
Or fully red,
That I were to remain colorless in this world,
That would be damn fine with me.
Others would see that I’m half this or half that,
If they have half a good heart (and brain) they
Would see what presents itself on the inside.
Rather than run discussion of
Who’s fully Indian and who’s not.
I am this way,
I’d be this way had I been born any color.
It’s not about percentage in blood or color, it’s about soul.

May 8, 2004

*Maybe some of you missed the meaning in this, basically, I was listening to some powwow music and came upon the conclusion that I would love this kind of music no matter if I'd been born asian or black or anything, because in my soul, that's who I am. That's what this poem says.

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Red road, white road

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