Poetry Friday

download.jpgAn Indian’s Life in a Museum

Smelling Food Trucks parked on the curb

Water trickling down the “naturally” shaped fountain

In the middle of Washington DC,

Is the Museum of the American Indian

 

The large Smithsonian building is the side of a cliff,

worn away by the forces of nature.

Carved by fire, wind, ice, and water,

is the Museum of the American Indian

 

Dad urged me to go,

But I would have rather had Ice Cream instead of

going to the “boring”

Museum of the American Indian

 

Learning about how American Indians are losing  their identity,

as fast as an object breaking the sound barrier.

Segregated, marginalized,

so much that people are more interested in Disney World

then learning about the Indians in

the Museum of the American Indian.

 

Viewing the world from their eyes.

Nature as a spirit and making everything

connect continuously like a spider web.

 

Coming out knowing that there  are other people who fight

just to keep their identity intact so that they can live it for the rest of their lives

and give it to future generations.

I Learned all of this

in the Museum of the American Indian.

 

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