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Native Dilemma |
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We used to be great, and the land was our home, Freedom then was ours to live right and to roam; But now you've fenced us in as if we were beasts-- Our blood same as yours, only now treated least. You claimed all the land, the wood, water, and stone, But how can you make the Earth something to own? You killed our livelihood with your noisome gun, The smoke from your iron horse dimming the sun. You claimed to "save" us, the crude savages wild, But you brought us all down, man, woman, and child; Saw our dances as evil, stamped down our God, Transformed us to you, though our souls were still flawed. What we can't see, though, is your statement of right; With your aim to help, you still ignore our plight; Our starving and ill, and the cold of the wind-- Where is the salvation you promised you'd send? And what you say is so far from what you do-- Like, if we're equal, why not treat us as you? With all that you've taught us, we find it quite odd: Next to you, are we same or lesser to God? --1998 |