I do not like … much of what I have seen.
This I will never share… because, inside I scream.
Why does your skin … turn darker in the sun ?
A question, many times asked … I would not run.
Something is different … about you, they would say.
Stand straight, silent, … be proud each day.
As a child, no real friends … no one to play.
I will be the cowboy .. you be the Indian, ran out of time to play.
Child, or Adult … I Will Not Work or Associate with you.
Work smarter, stronger, longer … life methodically passes by you.
Look at that man … with the high forehead, and cheek bones.
Where in the world .. does he call home ?
A little old lady … walks up to me, in a retail store.
Mister, I just wanted to ask … are you Iranian, there is trouble in store.
I am not 100% … a Native American.
By birth and flag … always, a responsible American.
Truthfully, I can remain inside … and be quite pale.
Why, should I punish myself … deep inside, I hurt, I wail.
Live quietly, reflect often … do not live in despair.
No matter, what happens … you really do care.
Now that I am old … and yes will not cover my gray.
Things are not much different, but what is normal, hey ?
What lives and struggles, I have lived … in any time or land.
My Native Spirit … is what holds me together, and is who, I am.
(Hal Brower 06/17/2011)
Shared by “April”