11 July 2005
Someone planted the seeds, I know,
and now it's growing everywhere.
Genocide blooming on the rez
in a battered face, and swollen
neck, blood overflows, separate
drops become an overwhelming
stream, one by one the spirits run
in the corpus between her thighs
a future totters on the brink.
It's not about sovereignty.
It is about sovereignty.
You don't understand, non-Native.
Keep your hands off our women folk.
Look at his face! You see it there?
There's a deep cut running down his
cheek and throat and chest and ending
in emasculation, blood flows
down his thighs. Is that his excuse?
White man this, white man that, white man
didn't take the chair to her head.
Genocide is like a disease
transmitted from the living hatred
to the body of the hated,
contaminating the sacred.
© 2005, Satya J. Gabriel