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
but
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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