I WALK IN THE HISTORY OF MY PEOPLE

There are women locked in my joints
   for refusing to speak to the police
My red blood full of those
   arrested     in flight     shot
My tendons stretched brittle with anger
   do not look like the white roots of peace
In my marrow are hungry faces
   who live on land the whites don't want
In my marrow women who walk 5 miles every day for water
In my marrow the swollen hands of my people who are not allowed
   to hunt
   to move
   to be
In the scars of my knees you can see
   children torn from their families
   bludgeoned into government schools
You can see through the pins in my bones
   that we are prisoners of a long war
My knee is so badly wounded no one will look at it
The pus of the past oozes from every poer
This infection has gone on for at least 300 years
   Our sacred beliefs have been made into pencils
   names of cities     gas stations
My knee is wounded so badly that I limp constantly
   Anger is my crutch     I hold myself upright with it
                    My knee is wounded
                       see
                           How I Am Still Walking