Poem: Her, Too

 

Her, Too

 

she spoke in a slaughtered language;

otherwise the audience forgot

the price of their good-natured front.

 

it was an effort no doubt futile,

perhaps tweaking a few wrinkles,

salting a couple hairlines.

judged by the pale shadow

of many a buried, massacred bone,

white was the color of death.

white,

 

whether on a proclamation,

a treaty, deed, or scalp-wanted poster,

or beneath the robe over a missionary’s waist.

always white.

 

the audience listened,

but of course they were innocent;

descended from settlers 

beyond their own white memory.

 

they watched 

with eyes as wide as the Earth:

a nod to the value of the land

and maybe a few special birds and trees.

there were no tears of the sort

which carved out a a trail

of exile and pain.  mostly 

the tears were blue.

blue on white.

==================

10/13 ... changed a word, feel really uncomfortable writing about this at all.

6/26/24

not sure I should be writing about this at all, arrogant White poet... (?)

Inspired by a guest speaker at UMM 

8/12  .. fixed second stanza

7/30/22 .. huge changes to flow and structure of poem