Indigenous Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Indigenous

I am a, as you’ve named:
“The child of Indian”, Indigenous
(Not from India, ha-ha-ha)
And now write; thanks to you.

I write in what you say:
“It is your alphabet”
Hey you know:
“Go to hell…”

You came in with your guns
And ego; and your lust
(Yes, you dumb…)
Descendent of the white
The looter, burglar, brutal

You, like the beast that you rode
And the gun and the sword
Just galloped; shed blood
Oh, before I forget
And you raped.

Among those destroyed
Was; culture that contains
Way to say, way to tell
And to write, by signals
I don’t know what they were
But there was; have no doubt

Now after the long years
You design syllabics
You lend me your Latin
You tell me that is mine.

What a shame…
I’d rather to remain
Unaware; as you say
Illiterate to your taste.