Planet Earth Bleeds Like Native Americans Poem by Terence George Craddock

I never learned to hunt with spear bow
like Native Americans I was never Native American
yet my heart bled haunted spirit impaled

a love for nature for freedom for wild things
a love for great spirit a love for life to love honour life
a love born for every great spirit breath taken

is very Native American we are a dying breed

when you look at your poisoned water
when you look at your nuclear radiated land
when you look at your dust bowls deforested

when you look at extinct animals in museums
when you look at your vast areas plastic filled oceans
when you look at glaciers ice caps melting hot

when you look at your wild raging forest fires burning
when you look at streams creeks rivers cities flooding
when you look at black hands ash in the wind choking

remember there was value in dying land animals oceans
remember there was value in Native American ecosystems
remember there was value in a persecuted dying breed