When you ask me who I am

When you ask me who I am, I can not be sure what to say. Am I a savage woman? My answer might dismay. Do I know what family is? It is surely hard to say. You see, Not too long ago in this country of the strong and free, My people had their freedom taken  and it has long since wore it’s effect on me. Children were snatched up from families deemed unfit, they were placed in unfamiliar buildings and that is not even half of it. Kids could not speak their native tongue in fear of being hit, No native art or family photos because the white man took away every little bit. My grandfather had to make a choice If he was ever going to escape, He was tired of the constant beatings  and continuous, unfortunate rape. Grandpa set his plan into motion One fall in the dead of night, On foot he ran and ran and ran Until the school was out of sight. No family to call or hug, He could hardly remember a face. The memories of a two year old, can be rather hard to retrace. So all alone he lived his life, until my sweet mother was born. The first piece of family he had ever known. Finally with a daughter, He could learn to love her so. Unfortunately it is hard to love  When you have never had a real home. Displacement is a horrendous fate, leavin many with no option, they turn to drugs and alcohol  because thy were never taught to take precaution. So when you ask me who I am  Just remember please It is not my fault if I cannot tell you, that is the savage deep inside of me.