Low Land Poem by David Aoloch Bion

fell on low land
Where rain rains
And floods
I drain water
It dries up
But my words
Can never meet there

I fell on where
Swan swayed
In water
Birds spoil my home yard
I wash land clean
It’s cleaned and cleaned
But my ants can’t believe
Refuses my words

Daughter of great man
Is playing with wealth of her father
Is playing with prestige of her father
What I leave under tree boast that
She‘s there of her power
Cultures are the same
Half cultures are the same