When the white man first came, he brought
The Book, a cross, goblets of wine, white bread,
silk robes and the promise of a Heaven.
When he left, he took our sun and mountain,
our worship, our medicine, our brown magic.
He lined his trail with mosaic bastards,
the aberration of a people who once sanctified
women and battled with spears,
yo-yos, blow guns, western wind.
The white man came again, this time in
camouflage and boogie-woogie. He brought
Santa Claus, democracy, and hand grenades.
He took our fight and aimed outwards to the
yellow neighbor and his Kamikaze, took our
women for servants, sex slaves, nurse maids.
When he left he took our words and letters,
our lessons, our drum beat, our open fist.
He lined his trail with shrapnel and gunpowder,
flattened our cities, tarnished our dreams.
When is the white man coming back?
I look around and see his ghost everywhere,
he is never there. Why won't the white man
love my country anymore? Has he grown
tired of our unflinching love?
The bountiful lands he pillaged for rice, pineapple,
bananas, tabako, mangoes, coconuts are barren now.
They long for the white man's science again,
My tears have always come with ease, this is
something you learn in my country. I remember
when the white man told me tears are prayer,
blessings from the white god with the high nose,
The cheek the white man never touched
still burns from his un-loving.
No comments:
Post a Comment