There’s a storm coming
sliding quiet
through empty air
I am an Indian
My thick black hair blows like rivers
in the wind.
Watching quiet
Anticipating
Unknowing
Silent
Watching quiet
Looking through the gates
into the home of my soul.
There’s a storm coming
The fringe touches with cold fingers
Damp
Raining
Silent
Violent
There’s a storm coming
into my soul
It arrives and I am sacrificed
Die for who I am
An Indian
Bold and proud
Unashamed.
No more fear
No more feeling
Ice water whips my flesh
I feel but don’t
Insults and provocations
I feel but don’t
I am nothing.
There’s a storm coming.