Jan 22, 2015

We were not born in America, but born in that soil….

We were born
in the past that is in your possession now
body transforms as manure to soil
We don’t fear death
neither do we celebrate birthdays
that announces the death of the past
nor do we have demands for the future

Stars on your stiff uniforms
are nothing but
Pupils of our native children
poked and soaked in their blood

Agents disguised as ministries
issue identity cards
to our bedrooms

You commissoned the Holy Spirit
to spy on our lands
the holy ghost raped our women
who would remind his holiness
those women are none other
than the daughters of the mother
who ate the first fruit of knowledge
when the cannons crush
the vocal chords of democracy
polished boots march and sing
we produce cannons
for world peace
Just for harmony
we fire shells

Tribe singing through the prison window
that looks fattened 
swallowing the flesh of
the nights darned by the cock feathers
demonstrates nudity

promises on change hit the sky
at the ring of a bell
presidents salute like corpses
distributing candies to them
who will tell them
that those candies were
cultivated on the butchered corpses
of the native land

one ought to tell them
we were born 
out of the big bang
one ought to tell them
we are born every day

land may be ignorant of race
land may be ignorant of crime
land is aware of treason

the flags that fly high
with the stripes hauled out of our red blood
shall be pulled down
by our young children
they have their weapon
they have their Red Feathers

dedicated to Leonard Peltier…..

(Translated from Tamil, that was published in Kombu magazine)
#Leonard #Peltier 

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