Heathens Speak By Tureeda Mikell

They spit his blood on us 

With words

That trouble our hearts

Took our land

Took memory away 

                                    From our medicine men and women

Took our children 

So we can no longer teach them 

The ways of our ancestors

Call us heathens

Say their savior’s blood

Is our blood

Say he suffered

As we must suffer

Tell us to do good

And love those

Who hate and despise us

Say we will be rewarded in heaven

For this behavior that kills us

Once every new moon

The missionaries 

Make us drink

                                   Red juice and eat 

                                    White bread

So we will not forget 

Our debt

To their savior

His sacrifice for our sins

We never understood

And do not understand

What this word 

                                     Sin means

                         We love our 

                         Great Mother Father 

                         Earth Sky
            

                                    We live by laws 

Of the holy ring 

But they call us heathens

Tell us we need to be 

Saved?

 
I remember what the 

Grandfather once told us

He said 

When missionaries came 

To force their way of worship 

Upon our people

We notice their savior 

Saves heaven on earth for them 

As it was for us

                                    Before they came.

Previously published in:
DRUMVOICES REVUE, Celebrating 20 Years, Southern Illinois University, Vol 17-2011-12
Synchronicity: The Oracle of Sun Medicine, Nomadic Press, 2020