We are the children
of the Four
A wandering race
The leaves, trees
and streams feed us
The earth, water and
winds sustain us
We belong to no man
A race so
You talk about us
with hushed voices
From behind your
Always looking down
The idea of us so
You don't deserve us
Never looking in our
As though the simple
mention of us will
bring you conflict
Our women so
Seeing them leaves
the vision in your
head for days
So you look away
From our mystical,
As we are the
children of the
forests, rivers and
The snow in the
We have always been
We have always
You gave us our name
It was never your
You called us
You look at us and
see aluminium homes
Your curious eyes
scanning our sites
Picking up on the
old battered cars
Camp fires and dirt
Nomads fighting with
You do not see our
As you are not
children of the air
A race so loyal like
thunder and lighting
Inside our homes
lives a love so vast
You can scoop it up
and eat it
It feels like candy
Smells like Apple
We a deadly
Taught from years of
We learnt to only
live with our own
Never having a home
When we burned, fire
was so angry
Our ash turned to
The wind was so
Our ash fluttered
over holy ground
Settled on the
We grew a paradise
Earth was so hurt
you took her
For you paradise
will be forever out
Just before it's in
The ocean washes it
Burning us made
You had killed the
children of the Four
We don't expect to
Our wisdom lays too
The Nazis didn't
just kill and
persecute the Jewish
They killed us too
Put your nose in the
You can still smell
us on the wind
THE LAST STAND
Where have all my people gone, the Navaho, Lakota, and the Sue.
Smothered beneath the white man blanket,
Chocking for a breath of airs life's sustaining oxygen.
The beating heart of native drums, are stilled frozen,
In the middle of it's rhythmic thumping, no pulses echo,
Can be heard on the open plain.
The weeping women kneel on sacred ground, shedding
A river of bloods tears, burning a permanent scare across,
A baron landscape.
Death's black raven shields itself, under it's crimson soaked wing,
Against shames immoral injustice.
Greed's unsatisfiable hunger for land and riches fuels lusts desire,
Behold exterminations nay holocaust of the native inhabitance,
Nothing remains alive except ignorance blackened shadow.
How much blood can mother earth be forced to drink before,
She drowns herself or spits up everything undigested,
With sheer disdain and hatreds malice intent.
On a black and white chess board the winners takes it all,
Strategies grand masters playing with living pawns.
Treaties written in vanishing ink, promises disappear in thin air,
Revealing a liars sharpened tongue.
The odds have always been stacked against those believing in fairness.
A rogue tidal wave of humanity has wiped out a nation,
And it's culture within the blink of an eye.
Flights appendages are clipped on the dove of peace, leaving it
Unable to soar above it's own habitat.
Wreckage’s refugees stumble in the ruins after math,
Rapes victims of civilizations civilized,
Are left devoid of their heritages lineage and legacy.
Elders chieftains representatives of a great nation,
Smoke peace pipes in the white mans hunting lodge
As human beings are hauled like cattle's cargo,
Taken to reservations burial grounds.
Ancient ancestors lit up the heaven's vast expanse,
By torches flame,
To guide the souls of the dead unto their great spiritual
The pale horse gallops forward without a rider,
And the red people become a phantom tribe vanishing
Upon the winds shifting tides.
Giving one last final trible battle war cry,
Why my father but the great spirit answers not.
Behold America's legacy, a world trampled beneath
It's heavy iron fist, all in the name of progress or for the cause
Of Manifest destiny.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Having settled into a firmament
of tarnished soil,
your sprouted roots
bring forth sullied growth.
What was blessed
by the sun at birth,
in deep shadows
of the moon,
living half a life in darkness
creating the fear that
comes from a wolf's howl.
SYNOPSIS of 'THE BIGOT'
We are born innocent,
but soon learn to distrust.
Racial prejudice, bigotry,antisemitism
emboldens and excites ignorance
and soon hate becomes the bigot's
religion of choice.
You are our neighbors
We are your neighbors
and we hate you
You do not belong here
You are different than us
We don't just want you to leave
We want to kill you
We want to eradicate you
We will attack you
When you retaliate
we will crumple to our knees
and cry to the world
Look at our neighbor!
Our neighbor is trying to kill us!
Then the world will rush to our aid
because the world fears us.
The world fears what we might become
You must learn to fear us.
Suffer not o man she cried desperate for consolation
Compassion twisted and tore at her heart
but the world she knew was silent.
Painful sounds from death filled wars, would wound her more
than jagged poison tipped arrows that pierced much too deeply.
And yet she carried on in quiet song as the world she knew kept silent.
And if the dying weren't enough, the sight of bloated bellies
and distraught mothers and sacked villages laid bare
by the unwilled force of child soldiers, would crush her spirit.
How could the world she knew keep silent?
Thinking that God did not understand her despair
She wept with abeyant tears that could not flow
as the world she knew kept silent.
To live, to die in the soiled spattered flow of time
passing through, passing through
Is the secret so sublime? Cannot she grieve?
Then silence no more was heard.
Instead a curious word within emerged
from her meditation of life's graces
a Hebrew word "Bitachon"
What was not known in agonies
was revealed in her silence.
They are always grainy.
Slightly out of focus due to age.
Their subjects stand sadly stoic.
Their faces all the same but different.
Eyes dark with hopelessness and pain
sprinkled with some sense of disbelief.
These pictures, some seventy years after they were snapped,
still scream impossibly loud with their silence.
Countless faces, forgotten to the fog of time,
stare back blankly begging for compassion
that will never come.
Snow falls on the brittle leaves of birch trees,
their branches miraculously overlooked by the December wind.
It makes a sound like the marching feet of scary Germans rushing through Poland.
Snow, mixed with freezing rain,
falls hard on the roof of an unheated barracks in Auschwitz,
filled with men and boys in pajamas.
It sounds not unlike the far-off thunder of the radio in the commandant’ s house,
the angry voice of the Fuhrer.
Snow, descending from the sky like shaved ice, on a brittle day,
5 maybe 8 degrees.
It covers the makeshift roadblocks in the streets of Warsaw,
making little mountains — so pure on the outside but fetid, rotten, corrupt beneath the fine powder.
this ice falling to the ground,
sounds like Russian boots jumping over the mountains.
Rain in Gdansk,
a fine mist,
the smell of the sea.
It covers the streets, where men whisper things that will someday be heard
and old women fall on their knees to pray the Rosary.
it smells of freedom.
a grab-and-run pack
a small survival sack
with one set of clothes for spouse and self
passports, a file with just few mails
an old diary with addresses to contact
in England, Finland, and Switzerland
and some currency notes
couple of thousands
in rupees that does not stretch
like the American dollars
they were what i needed most
as the pogrom was in progress
in my Tamil homeland
while i always went to bed
with shoes on my feet
We who survived the Holocaust
My life was taken away from me.
I was an unknown Jewish prisoner.
The Germans sent me to a concentration camp.
We had no food, which lead to starvation.
I wish I had a different life
I had a golden crown that could lead me to sudden pain.
I had to march for hours and hours till I reached a point where I can feel pain
beneath my feet.
I had to watch my Dad being wiped by German solders.
I didn’t have any rights or freedom.
In this society it’s all about life or death.
I am a young boy named Elie who is determined to live a healthy life.
I come from a poor family.
I sleep in a small room crammed with innocent Jews.
I pray and pray that my destiny lies in gods hands hoping to live.
I deal with father and son relationships only.
I had to bury bodies including my Dads whose body I couldn’t save.
I had to watch people being tortured like my Dad.
I lived because I believed in God and God believed in me.
We survived the holocaust.
My life was changed forever.
I was a Danish woman who risked my life for a friend named Ellen.
I was sent for help.
I felt bad for Ellen to a point where I was so depressed all I could do is fall to the
I had a life that I was willing to save which could lead me to sudden death.
I had to take care of my family everyday.
For days and days I had to lie to the German soldiers for my own sake.
I had a lot of freedom because the German’s didn’t care about Danish people.
I am a ten-year old girl named Annemarie.
I came from a wealthy family.
I sleep in a peaceful house with less, people and more space to move around.
I deal with problems that my friends and family faces.
I had to be in dangerous situations that could nearly get me killed.
I had to watch the Nazi’s destroy houses that the Jew’s lived in.
You Take From Me was written for a therapist friend whose father went through the Holocaust. She is Jewish. Her parents and siblings were eventually reunited praise God, but everything beyond family, faith and love was gone. They felt fortunate. Both her parents died many years ago. She recently received a notice for her Dad that the German government was demanding reimbursement funds as they claimed they had given him too much. She was outraged and reached out. This was my gift to her:
YOU TAKE FROM ME
You take from me
This is war you say
But you do not ask of me
You take from me my
This is war you say
And never ask of me
It's just the way it is in war you know
Yet never ask of me
And when Your war is finally through
and now my internal war has start...
This was only war you say
And never ask of me
Out I'm tossed
No need to hold
No need to keep
There's nothing left
a few dollars you toss
Really only war you know
And still... you never ask of me
So many years have come and gone
My second life as well
And yet you say
of what we took
all these things
all this all
we gave too much
those dollars tossed
too many for your loss
You take from me
Seventy years later more
Although I'm not here for you to take
you take once more
and never ask of