Best Birthright Poems
morning sun, a newborn babe,
exhales her first breath each dawn in mist
daybreak’s kiss
straddles the North Carolina and Tennessee line
Cherokee Nation’s last reservation
remains within a hazy, vaporous veil
nearly two centuries crept past
since 14,000 ill and hungry Cherokees
trekked the Trail of Tears
moving westward wearily
to sparse lands that precluded hunting, farming
by President Jackson’s ignoble decree
many perished along the trail
sacrificed to a selfish quest for gold
travelers still witness indomitable spirits
rising to life each night
as mist fades with setting sun
accusations of injustice
echo through the Smoky Mountains
to the tempo of tribal drums
Native Americans
reenact futile but peaceful efforts
to keep their homes
to remain one nation
to survive
to thrive
as ancestors did
scent of death ascends from sacred grounds
woodlands that have forever lost their greenery
now just cloudy scenery
peaks that resurrect dreary history
“reservation,” a trifling gesture
from a selfish territorial invader
speak to the spirits at sunset
beckon them to keep their honorable legacy alive
then feel damp anguish in foggy daybreak
souls returning to the forest floor
only to resurrect again
when darkness drapes the mountains once more
the curse
the shame
Smoky Mountains
Cherokee birthright denied
*Written August 20, 2014
Just flip a coin
And you'll enjoy
A newborn, bouncing baby boy.
Just flip a coin
And find a pearl
A newborn, bouncing baby girl.
Both born co-equal at the start -
Co-equal with a heart, a mind,
Yet differ as their lives unwind.
Yes, down the lengthy road of life
Through messages for roles we send
Co-equal mostly seems to end.
Abilities become obscure
And with that fondest hopes and dreams
Assigned disparate paths it seems.
With such great promises arrayed
To key the very start of things
What cost by loss destiny brings.
Co-equal at the start of life,
Co-equal at the very end,
It's years between time should amend.
Then, what must take place after this
Without in fact assigning "blame"
In this unequal coin flip game?
I took what was handed to me and I always held it dear.
No way to rest or ease my mind=
This burden was given oh so freely to me;
As if I would find some solace there.
So let us meet now at the end of these sands
And there we will desecrate what gifts he gave.
Thinking there was some birthright to the privilege
The ethereal joy of being held by the Father.
Tell me now if you will not unite
If you cannot commit yourself to our fight.
I expected only some of what you did to me
And you did not expect me to leave the child here.
Into the water and out to sea.
Our birthright is to clearly see
What God reveals and speaks of thee
In spirit's realm, we must engage
Before things manifest on life's stage
To this majestic force we yield
Our worldly discourse now revealed
With Christ, we rise to heavenly places
And embrace a life of new graces
A resurrected lifestyle we lead
Empowered to meet our every need
As we grasp the depth of this truth
We ascend to higher view
From this vantage point, we boldly face
Earthly challenges with steadfast grace
For in this higher, sacred sphere
Doubt and fear no longer interfere
Our purpose and destiny to fulfill
And live out what God planned with skill
For we are free, our spirits fly
To reach the heights and touch the sky.
Esau birthright was
Sold for a bowl of porridge,
Grasp of conflict pass.
Though the rain pounds outside,
Bidding everyone in my surroundings
To wear a grim frown
On their faces
I choose to open the door of my house
And to run, bare feet, in the open
Letting my skin be soaked
With those drips dripping from the skies,
Drips which ruin my brushed-up hair
And smear my made-up face
Making me look as messy as would
Be a cave woman!
Submerged in my own fluid realm,
I close my eyes
And dance with imaginary friends,
All who like me
Can only care to please themselves,
Without even opening their books to give
Their stories some space to plot out about what those
Who do not enjoy celestial showers
Would deem to think about them merely by glancing
At their clumsy dance moves!
If I choose to let myself be swayed by thundery showers
Or by the flow of the winds enouncing of how grand
Our world is,
So grand that it allows everyone treading upon its soils
Some space to enact for themselves,
Their own roles in a script which has been
Written by some higher power,
Why can’t it be that
We simply feel inborn in us, the surge to be like flowers;
Existing merely for our fragrance and our beauty,
While allowing life to create for itself
More artistry
By giving permission to bees to share our pollen?
Why can’t it be that
We see in others, the same essence
That inhabits us?
And since we shall all leave, someday,
After shedding off our useless and lifeless corpses
Why can’t we make our duty
That of understanding
That only when respect is given
Is it returned!
After all, when I enjoy dancing in the rain
I opinionate not
About those who stay indoors
I, rather,
Am so engrossed in experiencing the mystery
Of existence according to my personality
And the physical attributes that
Have been given to me,
That everything and everyone else
Become mere fumes!
Respect is my oars,
It allows me to keep rowing my boat
Further and further into murky waters
Since, armed with it,
Ancient creatures fear me!
Respect is my drive,
It allows me to set up my car
Into racing mode
So as to reach the finishing line as
As a winner!
Respect is my breath,
It allows me to be virtuous
While I transit in a world
Which shall never be mine!
Respect is my birthright,
I swear allegiance to it,
But
I make sure
To return it only when it is
Given to me!
Brushed cheeks blushing
from the red of many suns
released to plucking fingers
from the garden
of sustaining gifts:
tomatoes: green, gold, or red.
Saved beyond the reach of frost,
tenderly fed and tended
by the sun of summers’ passing.
a shared flesh, rejoicing
in the bearing of life
both given and received.
whose only purpose
is a gift.
we give ourselves
found in
the many definitions
of our love.
"Push! Push! You're almost there!"
And it hurts like nothing has hurt before.
Glitter agony of tendons strained.
Muscles whip-cracked.
Sinews twisted fuse-wire snakes.
Spit-lash forked tongues.
Lick with fire the ovoid belly.
In starburst viscera and uterine fluid.
Burning.
"He's here!"
Blue-streaked with plasma, amniotic.
Projectile split of membrane, tissue shock.
Screaming his right to the miracle.
Howled anguish.
Pain from day one.
She slumps.
Cold sweat of exhaustion.
Ice fever.
And prays.
The pain has not just begun.
In the realm of freedom, we find our voice,
Autonomy, our right, our ultimate choice.
Independence, the key to unlock our chains,
Liberty, our birthright, in our veins it remains.
Self-determination, the power to lead our way,
Self-governance, our duty, come what may.
Sovereignty, our kingdom, our land to defend,
Our rights and our freedoms, our beliefs to defend.
In a world full of chaos, confusion, and strife,
It's our independence that gives us life.
To chart our own course, to follow our dreams,
To be who we are, or so it seems.
No one can control us, no one can bind,
For in freedom and autonomy, our true selves we find.
So let us stand tall, let us be brave,
For in our independence, we are still saved.
For in liberty's light, we will always shine,
In self-determination, our destiny is divine.
So let us embrace our sovereignty true,
For in autonomy and freedom, our spirits renew.
Let us celebrate, let us rejoice,
In the freedom, autonomy, and independence we voice.
The thin steel blade glistens in the moonlight.
I see as it rises from the lake, and
Then I suddenly awake.
My eyes focus then I see the red glaring light.
Every night, the same dream,
When I awake, all I feel is the regime.
I remember nothing,
Then one morning I awake, and the words,
Come flooding out and I feel the ache.
I see the red and I see the sword,
But most of all I see the reward.
Athena, Athena,
Goddess of War,
I look and I can't think anymore.
She looks at me,
Holding the sword within her hands.
I look deep into her eyes, and
Now I understand.
I whisper, "The sword,"
She smiles saying, our legacy will be restored.
Excalibur will not be ignored.
You will be crowned the next lord.
Here is Excalibur, my sword.
When I touch it,
My calling cannot be ignored.
Now I know about the dreams.
Excalibur has always picked me,
I have forever reigned supreme.
Excalibur knows me as Queen.
They say opportunity comes with birth
I do believe it's true,
However, human inspiration is never just for the few
Man makes his own luck, I've heard it said
Spoken with privilege from ones homestead
Catchment areas are all the rage
Step up from the influence of those in a cage
Education but not for the masses, I'm schooled in survival, drug dealing and stashes
My home is a gang, I got in to stay safe
though it comes with a price inflicting pain to save face
What do you want to be when you grow up
The million dollar question
It won't be decided through my non existent education
Alive and kicking is it too much to ask?
While I run drugs and enforce as a daily task.
No way out, I'm in too deep
Danger everywhere with the friends I keep
Escape without a box is my aim
But first I must navigate the pressures and shame.
This secret power
which was entrusted to me,
transformed the dullest days
into magnificent brilliance;
I can't let life's promising dreams
be wasted or be ignored by me...
because they will glow and then shine
at a time when all seems
to be rapidly going down:
to reaveal their true purpose
when they open this forgotten,rusty door...
Unacceptable and conflicting ideologies
must vanish and renounce any attempt
to punish me with severe intimidation:
as I openly and fervently claim
this precious birthright;
let no unprincipled man
hurl his frustration at me
or cast envy upon me!
I intend to honor the indissoluble justice,
love the deserving profoundly
and help the hopeless
get more out of life;
what concerns me is their misery...
I must never be too inquisitive or
impose self-revelation on all;
but humanly and sincerely share
every gift that the Almight God
freely and gladly gave me with trust,
so that I would not forfeit
this precious birthright...
Time waxes poetic
on a distant battlefield
The warrior a sage
—whose blood we all share
(Dreamsleep: September. 2022)
Before you are no more
pass on something of meaning
to a stranger
some obscure legacy
you have owned for at least a year
for it has to have
the touch of you upon it.
Nothing engraved
nothing jagged with cutting edges;
a trinket, a small keepsake
a solid wind-honed something
that once was hand-made
on nature's lathe,
and because you have no idea
whether that stranger
will treasure it or discard it
as a worthless burden,
it will stand as a metaphor.
In its own small way
it will be indestructible because
it may fall
or be thrown from a pocket
until another stranger discovers it.
It will not gleam in the dark,
nor will it entice
anything but a curiosity
as to what it is and what meaning
it once held for someone.
That will be enough
for you were always a curious being
and now you have not only
endowed, but have transmitted
that part of yourself to another
and that is your currency,
an inheritance,
something to be discarded or
passed on.
A proprietary hold on God,
religion does proclaim
Defining what we know inside
our souls will they reclaim
The Cross or Torah, Buddhist lore
each ritual decries
What can’t be owned or scripted pure
through centuries of lies
Divinity a birthright deigned
for those who search to find
What God embeds in every soul
—that structure can’t define
(The New Room: May, 2022)