Genre: Native American (historical)
PATHS TO RESERVATIONS
Many, many decades now reversed,
“We the people…” feebly put ashore
Trembling ships from seas accursed,
With tattered sails and rats galore.
Each drew an icy, mournful breath
For rations gone and malady to show,
Appearing doomed to certain death
In winter’s barren bungalow.
But then a man so strong and kind
—Standing proudly—called us brother;
And by his fire we warmly dined,
Accepting largess from another.
We ate his food to give us strength,
Even quaffed strong medicine for ills,
Wholly dependent through winter’s length,
And viewed the rewards that help instills.
But we learned no lessons I’m afraid
—From those compassionate and selfless ways—
For we did scoff and laughingly upbraid,
While plundering their sunlit turquoise days.
We robbed this land and pushed them out,
Stripping its resources and killing the game;
Then from booms of ridicule—a victory shout,
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