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About This Poem
The Breed
Sometimes within the walls of today
We simply search for another way
To make this day all it should be
I must learn to live eternally
A blessing given or one took
I live my life inside a book
Each new day is another page
I sit in the circle and burn my sage
Asking Grandfather to help me see
Exactly what a true man should be
With the blood of an Indian and of a white
Life is most certainly a spiritual fight
Half of me hates how the other half-lives
The white man took all the Indian gives
Then the white man decided to take some more
Slaughtered the Indians from shore to shore
Brought an end to a beautiful way of life
“We will kill the man and rape the wife”
They called us heathens but don’t you know
Was the white man that had a heathen’s soul
Half and half, the blood of a breed
Poisoned by a white mans seed
It’s my Indian half I love the most
My white half is turning into a ghost
Through my veins flows the blood of a brave
Though I lived my life as my white halves slave
Jesus Christ, nailed to the cross for me
Now my Indian half enjoys living free
Though freedom is a frame of mind
In the circle of life it’s truth I find
With each new poem I’m able to see
A little bit deeper up inside of me
Which enables my soul to truly live
Making my heart strong enough to give
All the faith that is found in a seed
I reckon half and half, is good breed
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Posted in respects to James Fraser
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