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 white roots ofpeace
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 sdirs of my knees you can see
children tom from their families
bludgeoned into government schools
You can see through the pins in my bones
that we are prisoners ofa long war
My knee is so badly wounded no one will look at it
The pus ofthe past oozes from every pore
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
Camino entre la historia de mi pueblo
Hay mujeres encerradas en mis nudillos
por haberse negado a hablar a la policía
Mi sangre roja llena de esas
arrestadas, escapadas, balaceadas
Mis tendones estirados frágiles del coraje
no se miran como las raíces blancas de la paz
En mi médula hay caras hambrientas que viven
en los terrenos que los blancos no quieren
En mi médula hay mujeres que buscan el agua
por 5 millas todos los días
En mi médula llevo las caras hinchadas de mi pueblo prohibido
a cazar
a moverse
a ser
.… Leer más
