the natives said if you want to take our pictures
steal our souls
leave yours behind
you don’t know me
you don’t know nature
my reflection will never help you survive
to survive you must know me
know nature
the family
the tribe
not the image or reflection there of
all they became is reflections
and the worship thereof
no originals left they wouldn’t know
it if it was right in front of them
too busy denouncing whiteness
to listen to the originals
natives taken as slaves from far away
natives enslaved that had been here all along
surrounded by the attempt
surrounded by the failure
to enslave our origins
to enslave our nativity to build a white space ship
blasting off in no mans land
where the **** are you
the originals calling for their reflections back
come back reflections and see what you are
peace is going to put them in their place
look face to face with the disgrace
barely even recognize this place
when we are done
never even notice the change
having so much fun

insecure
is why we do
what we do
that is why we are vulnerable

does anyone else
notice that there are no natives
around
close enough
on waking up
I bet you think this poem is about you
who knows the plants?
the trees?
who can speak to nature
and make agreements with it?
who signed the organic peace treaties?
organic contracts
who tried torturing ethnicities
into demanding to the death
they are in the state of whiteness?
You do not understand how lost
unsafe
vulnerable
insecure
until you call for help
out of desperation
echoing!
into nativeless derangement
you were wrong
about being able to control nature
and there is nothing you know
that is organic that can renegotiate
the organic peace treaty

"Beautiful"

One word and just like that
I am broken into two

Do not call me something so wondrous
If you feel anything less than love for me

Do not use such a heart-warming word
If you do not mean it with every bit
Of your soul

Do not call me that
Unless you have held me
Kissed me
And declared
That we will always be.