Dirt & Dust Poem by Lindsey Wolf

Knee high, ripples and wades.
Brutality. Puncturing the dirt.
Where spring blossoms once would flirt.

The birds sing no more,
gone from trees that were once stored.
Wells' water once was clean,
now taken up a red gleam.

Where there is dust of our ancestor's bones,
it is where the weeds are best grown.
Where the bodies once laid,
is where the dogs will stray.

Do you care about your family so lame
to destroy the land on which we became?
a cigarette burned legacy,
alcohol tainted blood inside of me.