by Rebekkah Autaubo
let your country know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that
our blood stains the grasses they walk their cattle on
let your country know that our families are used for target practice
when the suicides of our children are not enough to satisfy death
whether it wishes us well or ill, we have served the patriotic cause
we have feasted at the table where our ancestors spilt their breaths
if the free society cannot help those who are poor,
how can we trust it to help those who are poor in race
hope cannot become the prey of hostile powers, but it can be
overpowered by the hope of the prey to live
let your country know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that
the murdered and missing are not but ever-fresh
wounds dying and disappearing on a land that was blessed to us
let your country know that our youth will eat anger for breakfast
when the anger of your faces on the screen becomes too much
whether it wishes us well or ill, we have served ourselves from
plates too shattered to carry and too heavy to throw away
if the free society cannot help those who are poor,
how could we sleep with the memories of our children
being stolen – taken – removed – forcibly regenerated –
hushed
we dare not tempt them with weakness, however
your advertisements of liquor and fast living whispers
louder
for only when our arms are sufficient beyond doubt,
our throats are tied and sliced with the order to shut up
for only when our arms are sufficient beyond doubt,
our retaliation and war songs are turned down – denounced
in your hands, my fellow citizens, more than in mine,
will rest the responsibility to not let the whiter race dilute our passions
in your eyes, more than in mine, can you see the injustice
the deliberate contraction between us and the shitty ass of a dog
ask whether you are citizens of our traditional courage, or the world of a
primitive, co-dependent, and unsettled state of being
now the trumpet summons us again – not to bow down to the white faces
but to gather our strength and fight the in-equal treatment – selfishly
a good conscience our only sure reward, with history the final judge of our
deeds, ask if the body your ancestors have gifted you is being used in its rightful
way
in your eyes, more than mine, can you spot the difference within
yourself and the dead-eye smile of the ones who promised us a better life
with treaties
ask whether you are citizens of our refined and noble way of life
or if a country founded on theft, death, and poor health,
deserves to see your penny skin or crow-shadowed eyes of wisdom
let your country know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that
our blood stains the grasses they walk their cattle on
let your country know that we have ate enough shit with a smile
our youth are growing up on the confidence our elders
cultivated
whether they wish us well or ill, tell your leaders we have taken the first steps –
the first steps to rip and devour the evils that were sown into the fabric of us