Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Savage?! Part 2

Okay, I know I just did one, but I think that the letter really deserved it's own poem. So here it is, my poem:

Just a Savage

Why do you do this White Man
What do you gain from it
Why do you think the world is yours
When you "buy" the world around us,
What do you get from it
What is your purpose
And when you are done here,
What would you do then
Or perhaps I don't understand
Perhaps I'm just a Savage

Why don't you care White Man
Do you not hear the world around you,
The very world you conquer
Can you not hear the leaves rusting,
The whistling wind in the whippoorwill
Does every beast matter to you,
Do you find yourself higher than them
Is the buffalo just a "creature" to you,
Without feelings or a soul
Maybe you just don't try to listen
Or perhaps I don't understand
Perhaps I'm just a Savage

When will you learn White Man
This world is to be loved,
To be nurtured
It was given to all of us:
The beasts, the trees, the man
So treat the world not as land,
But as something very much alive
Don't cut trees so you can make your iron horses
When your cities are everywhere,
And you own the world,
What will the cost have been
Will you be able to hear or breath
Will there be anywhere to escape to
Will there be a world left to live in
Or perhaps the White Man doesn't understand
Are we truly the ones who are Savages

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Savage?! Part 1

My fellow blogger Laurie B. of The Looking Glass posted something truly amazing and inspirational! This is what Chief Seattle wrote to George Washington in response to Washington trying to buy the Native American's lands. I felt I just had to post this!

The Great White Chief in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land. He also sends words of friendship and goodwill. This is kind of him since we know he has little need of our friendship in return. But we will consider your offer. What I say the Great White Chief can count on as truly as our white brothers can count on the turning of the seasons. My words are like stars: they do not set.How can you buy or sell the sky; the warmth of the land? The idea is strange to us. We do not own the freshness of the air or the sparkle of the water, so how can you buy them from us? We will decide in our time, but every part of the Earth is sacred to my people. Every shining pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every glade and humming insect is holy in the memory and experience of my people.We know that the white man doesn’t understand our ways. One portion of the land is the same to him as the next, for he is a stranger who comes in the night and takes from the Earth whatever he wants. The Earth is not his brother but his enemy; and when he conquers it he moves on. He leaves his fathers’ graves behind and doesn’t care. He kidnaps the Earth from his children. His father’s graves and childrens birthrights are forgotten. His appetite will devour the Earth and leave behind a wasteland. The sight of your cities pains the eye of the red man. But perhaps this is because the red man is a “savage” and doesn’t understand.There is no quiet place in the white man’s cities. No place to hear the leaves of spring or the rustle of insects’ wings. The clatter insults the ears. But perhaps I am only a “savage” and don’t understand. And what is there to life if a man cannot hear the lovely cry of the whippoorwill or the argument of the frogs around a pond at night? The Indian prefers the soft sound of the wind darting over the face of the pond, and the wind itself cleansed by the midday rain or scented with pinion. The air is precious to the red man for all things share the same breath: the beasts, the trees, the man. The white man doesn’t seem to notice the air he breathes. Like a man dying for days, he is numb to his own stench.If I accept, I will make one condition: the white man must treat the beasts of this land as his brothers. I am just a “savage” and don’t understand any other way. I have seen a thousand rotting buffaloes on the prairie, left by the white man who shot them from a passing train. I am a “savage” and do not understand how the smoking iron horse can be more important than the buffalo whom we kill only to live. What is man without the beasts? If all the beasts were gone then men would die from a terrible loneliness of the spirit. For whatever happens to the beasts also happens to the man. All things are connected. Whatever befalls the Earth befalls the sons of the Earth.Our children have seen our fathers humbled in defeat. Our warriors have felt shame. After defeat they turn their days in idleness and contaminate their bodies with sweet food and strong drink. It matters little where we pass the rest of our days; they are not many. A few more hours, a few more winters, and none of the children of the great tribes that once lived on the Earth, or that roamed in small bands in the woods, will be left to mourn the graves of a people once as powerful and hopeful as yours. One thing we know that the white man may one day discover: our God and your God are the same. You may think now that you own Him as you wish to own our land, but you cannot. He is the God of man and his compassion is equal for the red man and the white. The Earth is precious to him, and to harm the Earth is to pour contempt on its creator. The whites too shall pass, perhaps sooner than other tribes. Continue to contaminate your own bed and you will one night suffocate in your own waste.When the buffalo are all slaughtered, the wild horses all tamed. The secret corners of the forest heavy with the scent of many men, and the view of the ripe hills blotted by telegraph wires. Where is the thicket? Gone. Where is the eagle? Gone. And what is it to say goodbye to the swift and the hunt, the end of living and the beginning of survival.We might understand if we knew what it was that the white man dreams, what hopes he describes to his children on long winter nights, what visions he burns into their minds so that they will wish for tomorrow. But we are “savages”. The white man’s dreams are hidden from us. And because they are hidden we will go our own way. If we agree, it will be to secure the reservation you’ve promised. There, perhaps we may live out our brief days as we wish. When the last red man has vanished from the Earth, and our memory is just the shadow of a cloud passing across the prairie, these shores and forests will still hold the spirits of my people, for they love the Earth the way a newborn loves its mother’s heartbeat.If we sell you our land, love it as we’ve loved it. Care for it as we’ve cared for it. Hold in your mind the memory of the land, as it is when you take it. And with all your strength and all your might and with all your heart preserve it for your children, and love it as God loves us all. One thing we know: our God is the same as yours. The Earth is precious to him. Even the white man cannot be exempt from common destiny.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008


WE HAVE WON!!! Obama won the presidency! He won by 7 million votes and 176 electoral votes! To every Republican out there, McCain ran a long and hard campaign, he was a good guy. To all you Democrats, Good Job! I commend anyone and everyone who voted, even for McCain. Your votes can change the world!

But now... the election that I held for my new poem! In third was "Life". In second was "Perceptions". And the winner was... "Changes"! So here it is:


What has become of my world
What has become of the leaders
What happened to the righteous
How could this have happened
Can the darkness be turned back
Or is it already too late?

This world of ours...
How did it become this
It was once great
When people cheered and freedom reigned
When war was gone and happiness prospered
Why is it gone; where did it go?!
Will I ever see the sun shine again?

My world is corrupt...
It's just a shadow of something great and mighty
How will we go back to the light
Who are we
What are we

Is there someone coming
Can he turn us around
How will he do it
Will my world see a brighter future
Will he give us a reason to smile
It won't be easy

Well let me tell you
Hope is Coming!
It's always darkest before the dawn
And the dawn is here
He is coming
The man who can change it
How is it possible...