We the People

We invaded your land and staked a claim that
All men were created equal, and
Then stripped you of your manhood and
Raised the flag of freedom above your cage.

And then we took your children,
Sent them to school where we silenced them,
And like lines off a chalkboard
We erased their collective memories.

Like cattle we raised them and
Branded the Indian out of them, and
Quenching their spirits for God’s sake,
Our schoolhouses became slaughterhouses.

And then we herded you onto reservations,
Declared your minds lost when you resisted
And forced you into asylums,
Ignorant of our own imprisoned minds.

We gained new territory but
Lost a piece of ourselves, and
With every step forward in the Long Walk
We fell backward.

Blindly we shackled our souls in the name of freedom and 

Liberty for “all”, and
Buried our humanity in the mounds of those
We named savage.

And yet we persisted. We came with drills
And water cannons and blasted you
When you stood to protect the waters,
And soon we will have nothing to drink but your tears.

If only we could look into the waters and see
Beyond ourselves, see your reflection, that
I am you, you are me,
We are the people,

That a beating to your body severs my soul, and
When you are chained and bound, so is my spirit.
Your children forsaken are the children I have yet to birth,
And when you are kept in darkness, my future is bleak.

Each moment of pain inflicted
Sears its memory into my skin, never to be forgotten.
I cannot find my way back through the woods of despair –
Everyday, I am trespassing.

Only the beat of your drum will
Steady the rhythm of my heart,
And only when you dance finally free,
My spirit will rise,

For I am you, you are me, we are the people.
We call you “red”, but cut me open and
See the colour I bleed –
You simply wear your heart on your face.

Ode to a Narrow-Leafed Campion

The day grew long, but still,

I was constrained by the hours.

My heart danced, leaped, raced, 

Until it lost its way in the dusk and 

Sank beneath the stars.

The seasons embraced, but I was left in solitude

For Time was my only companion, and even she,

My fickle friend, was keen to depart.

As winter forced the heat to disperse,

I followed her scent to the meadow where,

Shepherd-less, I roamed,

Searching for the rarest rose.

Through the bramble I clawed,

And the thorns marked my heart red.

I could no longer see the rose I sought,

Plucked by the winds of passion –

The meadow now lay bare and desolate.

Everywhere I turned, I met an empty stare

As a tempest of loneliness set in,

So I closed my eyes and dared not open.

Inward I turned my gaze but

As the scars healed they led me to myself

And in myself I found strength.

Strength to search, to climb, to strive.

And as I traversed the peaks and valleys,

I came upon the arctic, where

With a staff of patience and resolve,

I made my way over the frost-bitten stones,

Feeling every sign beneath my soles

Incline me to bend to the snow-white gem

That lay hidden within my reach.

So gently in my palm I cradled the seed

That survived thirty-thousand years

Waiting for my heart to burgeon.

At last in the warmth of my hands

You flowered, soft and white

And in that moment I would forsake

All ease to shelter you from any plight.

A narrow-leafed campion,

Delicate and pure,

You took thousands of years to bloom

And now I know why.