Tensquatawa

open door
policies
treaties
working with
others to
rid the land
of invaders from
across the sea with
whiskey and woman and
fire arms.

the promised land
but who was it
promised to.

all part of
the plan but
still it wasn't
right to stomp
on someone's
homeland -
could've
lived in peace
could've
learned from them
could've
maybe started over
for real.

move here.
now here.
not give us
the best of
what you have.

and the villages
burn and the smell
is acrid and the white
men from across the sea
are dark and dangerous
twisting words,
stealing land,
where do i
stand?

whose land?

not my land.
just a visitor
here, waiting for
the final time, the
coming of the next
age where man is
taken to the
next step or
locked away
for all time
with the serpant
and the fire breather
and the liar and the
blasphemer - i sit
in this land given
by Him and i try
hard not to sin
and fail miserably
on many occasions.

narrow is the gate.

i try not to hate.

i wish i could apologize
for the mistakes they
made back then and
i guess i can for
what i have done
personally -
a person,
an ally,
a treaty
with us
owing you
so much.

an unmarked grave
for so many years
out of sight and
out of mind so it
seemed to so many
generations of euro-
peans, peons in the
game like everyone
else but thinking
because we're whiter
we're somehow more
special. sorry, but
it doesn't work that
way.

goodbye Tensquatawa
with your physical
self resting in the
ground in some back-
yard in kansas city.

not pity, but respect.

repay the debt.