Blue pants, white stripes,
trace portable tattoos
into the fertile land of a teacher’s psyche:
a place where crushed heads
and dismembered limbs
soak in liquid red.
The colours you wear bear a statement of the world
your ancestors were unfortunate to inherit.
A place where war has turned
Natives against Europeans,
Europeans against Natives,
Native Europeans against European Natives,
you against yourself.
Blue sky rushes alongside white clouds.
White petals caress blue waves.
Blue marbles roll over white sand.
The colours you wear bear a statement of America’s aching past,
and the dislocation of your culture today . . .
Published in TOK: Writing the New Toronto, Book 3. Purchase the book to read the full piece.