Generations Poem by Tobbie WhiteBird Crowe

He came a stranger unto our land.
We gave him peace, maize and game.
We call him brother with open hand;
He paid us with thievery, murder, rape.
For this, is white man's way.

We lived in peace with the Great Earth Spirit,
Wasted nothing, thankful for all.
He cut our trees, plowed our meadows,
Slaughtered brother buffalo for his pelt.
This, was white man's way.

When we protested, he objected
We had now no rights it seemed.
We were savage, souless beings
Less then the buffalo, less then the trees.
This, was white man's way.

So we fought for right, for our own ways.
We fought for freedom as men.
He raped our woman, slaughtered our children,
Taught us scalping for reward.
This, was white man's way.

In the name of justice, he took our land.
In the name of freedom, destroyed our homes.
For civilization, he abolished tradition.
In the name of God, destroyed our soul.
This, was white man's way.

They shuffled us from wasteland to wasteland,
Farther and farther from what once was home.
Far enough to hope to forget us.
Far enough, conquered, to die.
This, was white man's way.

So sit our people on the reservations,
Worst of the ghettos, in poverty, starving
Few of our babies grow to be children,
In hope a great nation will just fade away.
For this too, is white man's way.

But our Great Spirit cannot be vanquished;
Though it take two-hundred or two-thousand years,
We will have back what the Great Spirit gave us.
We are patient, we are strong, we endure.
For this, is red man's way.

(1974)