For A Full Blood
by Doug Draime
Hovering over your head
is the ghost of your
great-great-great grandfather.
His ghost is totally pissed off.
It is dancing and brooding
around your future grave.
It is dancing and fuming
over your wretched
life.
Know the shame of his ghost.
His shame is the only life you know.
Disease, poverty and booze have
become your spiritual rites.
And your great-great-great grandfather's
tears flood the streams and rivers and
the land where he once hunted
deer and elk,
where he remained a warrior,
despite overwhelming hordes of
white demon oppressors.