Malfeasance

I spent summers on the reservation

Of the forgotten Lenape nation.

And though the memories now seem sublime,

I used to get beaten up all the time.

I was a traitor because I was white.

They'd tell me I'd glow in the dark at night.

They never cared that I breathed the same dust,

My skin made me someone they could not trust.

The law of my tribe says I am my skin,

And my skin is white, so I bear the sin

Of those who hurt them before I was born.

I just remind them of all that they mourn

Soul means nothing, though they speak of spirit,

My soul is red, but they will not hear it!

Their ears are closed by the color they see;

Color is confused for that which is me.

They may be correct and I may be white.

I'll never know if I or they were right.

But my mother was white, my father red ...

What color will I be when I am dead?

Reviews

[RainDancer1997]

Great poem:) We are more than just color. So what if their of two different nations? We are meant to be unique in our own ways.

[Mizo4]

superb poem. muy bien. hope your having a great day

[Dayran]

I am light brown but the Tamils here find that my command of the English language sets me apart. Nobody actually says anything but its there in the activities of the day. I've been trying to learn of the Native American experience in the world and am grateful for this clear and open communication you have made. It is much like being a Tamil but without having lost our land. Thank you.

[Emily B]

you are what your soul whispers . . . never doubt that