Post by Quil on Jul 21, 2011 23:24:20 GMT -8
as a child i knew not what life was but what i lived....for many yrs as a child while liveing as a indian i felt lassitude and apathy to the identity of who i was or was supose to be...
the days and nights were but a comatose a living dead of a dispondent reaction to anything around me
i pictured worlds of happy movies and cherished songs that winter dances brought to my heart if but only for a coruscation of time. until the dark clouds once again came to me like hell roling in on a cold winters day.....times may of been tough and visions of happiness but a blur, yet it was me from the short visions of energy, to the color of my skin that all caucasians made sure my people knew....you dont like the way we do things then go back to the rez,or when our forefathers had the chance why didnt they kill all of you was told to me in most stores and buildings i went into that wasnt on the rez, and if it wasnt words it was stares.stares that cut through a 6 yr old like a knife through butter on a hot summers day.
then the time came my parents werent fit to watch thier own children like they should be watched was told by social welfare. I remembered the first time like it was yesterday.my dad telling me the govt was who was the law of today and if we dont compy they would take us anyway. at least he was able to get us to foster care other then rez school. like wow i thought to myself. but i dont want to go.
the bus ride was long and to places i never seen. and white people hola i have to live with them.
your a laminite the chosen people was told to me.show us how indians dance or no food for you and bed would be fitting to. then school came like a branding iron to a calf. Injun joe , wagon burger, tonto, and savage was told to me every day then the fights started , first it started with my grade then as they cried big brother would make things right.No buddy will ever make me cry again i thought to myself as the fights turned into ages well beond mine.
hate crawled into my heart like magots on a corpse as hrs turned into days and days into years.at least i got to spend the summer with my tupa for foster care made it so.
Where's cuz i would ask auntie during the hot summers days. They took him and i know not where he is. it's best they say as she cried herself to sleep.she knew not i seen her but i did and still feel the pain she live yesterday.
she died with a broken heart and a bottle to sooth her pain. Indians all around me knew not but life of vain
is this our life , is this who we are i think to myself once again.
This is not what tupa taught me, this is not what i was told
we're a people of virtue.prudence is of our hearts determination for we are heart felt and thought is but a memory and no more.
A vestige of our forefathers existance still scintillates in each and every one of us. from words like brother and sister and song and dance from the beating of the drums to the cleansing of the bodies through ceremony of one form or another we hold and cherish these with every waking day as life holds true to who we are...we will rise once again and be that much more stronger for the experiance of pain can never be equalled by false words of apathy of impersonated life.
the days and nights were but a comatose a living dead of a dispondent reaction to anything around me
i pictured worlds of happy movies and cherished songs that winter dances brought to my heart if but only for a coruscation of time. until the dark clouds once again came to me like hell roling in on a cold winters day.....times may of been tough and visions of happiness but a blur, yet it was me from the short visions of energy, to the color of my skin that all caucasians made sure my people knew....you dont like the way we do things then go back to the rez,or when our forefathers had the chance why didnt they kill all of you was told to me in most stores and buildings i went into that wasnt on the rez, and if it wasnt words it was stares.stares that cut through a 6 yr old like a knife through butter on a hot summers day.
then the time came my parents werent fit to watch thier own children like they should be watched was told by social welfare. I remembered the first time like it was yesterday.my dad telling me the govt was who was the law of today and if we dont compy they would take us anyway. at least he was able to get us to foster care other then rez school. like wow i thought to myself. but i dont want to go.
the bus ride was long and to places i never seen. and white people hola i have to live with them.
your a laminite the chosen people was told to me.show us how indians dance or no food for you and bed would be fitting to. then school came like a branding iron to a calf. Injun joe , wagon burger, tonto, and savage was told to me every day then the fights started , first it started with my grade then as they cried big brother would make things right.No buddy will ever make me cry again i thought to myself as the fights turned into ages well beond mine.
hate crawled into my heart like magots on a corpse as hrs turned into days and days into years.at least i got to spend the summer with my tupa for foster care made it so.
Where's cuz i would ask auntie during the hot summers days. They took him and i know not where he is. it's best they say as she cried herself to sleep.she knew not i seen her but i did and still feel the pain she live yesterday.
she died with a broken heart and a bottle to sooth her pain. Indians all around me knew not but life of vain
is this our life , is this who we are i think to myself once again.
This is not what tupa taught me, this is not what i was told
we're a people of virtue.prudence is of our hearts determination for we are heart felt and thought is but a memory and no more.
A vestige of our forefathers existance still scintillates in each and every one of us. from words like brother and sister and song and dance from the beating of the drums to the cleansing of the bodies through ceremony of one form or another we hold and cherish these with every waking day as life holds true to who we are...we will rise once again and be that much more stronger for the experiance of pain can never be equalled by false words of apathy of impersonated life.