Behind Backs

April 4th, 2000

Though I carry the blood of many races
And feel in my veins the pain of my people
I am white-faced, blue-eyed, and

But when the waitress, my friend, my co-worker
Cigarette in hand, sitting with us on the dock
Speaks without reserve about "dirty injuns"
It makes me want to cry,
To yell
To tell her?
Or hit her?
To do something
Do anything...

But I sit quietly
Knowing that breaktime will be over soon
Then I can go back
And forget that by doing nothing
I have only made it worse.


Obviously a racism thing... Yeah. The people involved remain anonymous, but basically... well, some of my ancestors, many generations back, are Native Canadians of the Huron persuasion... You wouldn't know it to look at me though, as the poem says. The theme is probably my own fear do do anything about it.

All Done?

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