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I, a Red Skin dog, as some may delight to call me,

Michael Dom Avatar  Send Soup Mail  Block poet from commenting on your poetry

Below is the poem entitled I, a Red Skin dog, as some may delight to call me, which was written by poet Michael Dom. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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I, a Red Skin dog, as some may delight to call me,

I, a Red Skin dog, as some may delight to call me,
I have heard the tales of horror, from my dark skinned foes.
I have heard the tales of terror, from others who became my friends.
And I have walked with a dark skinned woman of their tribe.
We walked in the beauty of her courage, together. Tearless. 
Tearless we both were as she spoke, for tears, only gods could cry for her.
I am a Red Skin dog.
And yet we walked together and we talked – together, fearless,
I and this swaying ebony sapling, sprung from the roots of my foes tribe.
We talked of the pitiless reality of that life she left behind, of that time
That she has left, far, far behind, like a useless scar
That has toughened over. And made her stronger. 
I learned from this daughter of my foes
That true courage is never fearless, but always stronger. Victorious,
Stronger she was by far, to this Red Skin dog
Than the thousand sons who died, in her honor. So they say. Ridiculous,
But I have heard the balance of their sins.
And for all the tales I have heard from those angry young men, and their vengeful fathers
Her horror was a thousand times more sinister. A thousand times more callous.
Horror took up residence in her home but never in her heart.
But for others, I cannot speak.
“…splinters and bursting fragments…in my mind
Ai! Tearing! Memory of tearing flesh, swallowing tears and mucus, blood and bile
…bruising and ripping garments…off my body
…filthy, familiar hands tearing at my dress…
…my legs split and broken like a wild pig slaughter, my screams smashed from my lips,
With the butt of a rifle, just used to kill a Red Skin dog…
Aieee! Clean this floor mama, mop up this spew!
It cannot be mine!
This child is not mine!
It is not mine! It is the devils own creation born in hell fire!
Born in my death! 	
Aieee! I am dead, I cannot be alive. 
I am dead and the Red Skin dogs have eaten my corpse.
Those spirits in their wingless chariot flew over the land and sea, to rescue me?
Rescue me from that black devil who said he was like Jesus to me.
I thought you were my uncle-brother…
Who else could have found us here?
Hidden away from the Red Skins and their Wingless Angels.
Only you my uncle-brother
Only you could have found us
Only you could have killed us.
And now the progeny of your evil deed suckles at my breasts
As I lie dead in the home of those Red Skin dogs you fought.”

Copyright © Michael Dom

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  1. Date: 5/27/2013 10:10:00 AM
    At first I thought this was about Native American Indians... now I'm not so sure. In any case it's captivating writing. I feel like there is so much more to this story that meets the eye... and it's drenched with sorrow and heartache.

  1. Date: 4/22/2013 1:29:00 AM
    Another Wow! I loved how the story uttered Mike! This is definitely go to my fave box, I feel like reading the intro of a mystery novel "Horror took up residence in her home but never in her heart." I am fall for this line, this is gorgeous :) enjoyed my reading today Mike :D wishing you a wonderful day :D hug, Yanny

    Dom Avatar Michael Dom
    Date: 4/22/2013 9:23:00 PM Block poet from commenting on your poetry

    sweet as! :-D
  1. Date: 4/2/2013 12:51:00 PM
    Wow Michael...this is very emotionally driven...and well. I would love to know what inspired it....I truly am interested...I am placing it in my favorite poems...Donna

    Dom Avatar Michael Dom
    Date: 4/6/2013 1:35:00 AM Block poet from commenting on your poetry

    hey Donna, thanks for you interest. there was a civil war in one of the provinces of my country and we are still struggling over the outcome.