I heard a tale today about my Indian forefathers
Mothers and brothers,
About how they fought for their land to be free,
How without them there would be no me.
I heard a tale today about my African forefathers,
Mothers and brothers,
About how they fought for themselves to be free,
How without them there would be no me.
I heard a tale today about my European forefathers,
Mothers and brothers,
About how they denied my Indian and African blood to be free,
How without them there would be no me.
It is a tale of strength, of courage,
And of hurt and sorrow,
A tale of anger, of cruelty,
And the hope for the better tomorrow.
A tale of peace, of joy, and the greed to want more and more.
It is a tale of passion, of victory and finally of a war.
When my ancestors were killed a part of me got lost,
A part that never blossomed, war always has its cost,
A part that never saw a spark,
A part that could never leave its mark.
With my Indian blood went the sun,
Peace and tranquillity of nature I came to shun,
Where is it now? Not in the massive walls that rise,
That stand and pierce the smoky luminous skies.
With my African blood went my freedom,
My kings and queens lost their kingdoms,
It is now a constant struggle to regain,
What we once had, and gets taken from us again and again.
And as my European ancestors conducted the shedding of my blood,
Among the many tears that continued to flood,
With their killings went my innocence,
With this loss went my sense.
And as my ancestors fought this battle,
So too do I strap on my saddle,
For now do I fight for the solicitation of my loss,
Alone, am I not in my armor,
So the power we have to cross,
And pass the many boundaries we encounter,
That only leads to the enforcement of the evil of the founder.
The past is not our enemy,
What is, is the history we do not see,
The endless repetitions we never seem to hear,
Even though the screams get louder and louder in our ears.
For now we are the forefathers,
Mothers and brothers,
We are the new and old history people will see,
Will our decedents have to fight, or will they finally find
Peace and be free? -
Age 14
Copyright Wendy Torres 1995
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