Nature’s People


We don’t practice giving back to nature
The same one that feeds us, replenishes us and makes us whole.

We wait as deforestation and fragmentation
Takes away indigenous habitats and native reserves

We are blubber-rich in our hearts – the sacred love of oil.
We love shale oil mined from the Dakotas

And supplied through pipelines to the east, west
And the south. We don’t care about the oriental-eyed Indians

The natives with feathers on their headgear
And Mohawks beneath. We desecrate legends

Sitting inside Wigwams, and the assemblies of culture
And devotion. And the beauty of the pact between man and nature

Native and vegetation, lies in the intrinsic chemistry of barter
Giving and taking, like how a child suckles the breast

Of her mother and repays her back when she’s weary
And old. And through the yucca trees, mother nature guides

Her many disciples to their promise land. The memory of Joshua
Embedded in every fruit, every leaf, every bud.

Love too is a mainstay here. Like the saplings that grow
From the palms of man and little children watering

Their roots and calling them “Papoose”

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