The Sun’s Indigenous

 

A treat

The coffee

I don’t have to load it

In my buckboard

Like a settler come to town

On Saturday for supplies

Too easy to fantasize

My house on the prairie

Or my split-level

In the east

How much did others pay

For dreaming?

I don’t mean pioneers

Though for their dreaming

They gave much

I mean those who dreamed

Of earthen wisdom,

Already here for centuries

Imperfect

But here first

First people

 

In the world, we don’t respect

Indigenous save for study

(bless the anthropologists

in situ)

The land is there

Just needs some brutal scrubbing

Clear it out for destiny

That we own

 

I’m white

I don’t mind being white

I rarely have to

I rarely have to think of it,

Unless I want to

Call me a lover of dark skin

I am

I have no way to understand reparation

Except that it’s a worthy thought

At least to seek forgiveness

Knowing that each people

Have done each other

That is no excuse for us

Or anyone

To pick up the rope, the chain,

The sword

To take over for intrafamily rivalry

And sin of war that way

Theirs in the first,

Ours in the last

 

I think that colors merge into the sun

I think that I’m idealist

And most likely, oh, so naïve

But I’ll take it for my vision

Keeping in the daylight

Dreaming of at night

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Drop the Label Movement on Unsplash

Azukar Coffee, Phoenix, United States

The subject of this photo, Hannah, radiates authenticity, joy, and beauty in her jean jacket laced with various pins and buttons. This photo of Hannah was captured by Idara Ekpoh in south Phoenix, Arizona, at Azukar Coffee Shop.