Dancing Sun

I have ancestors.
People of the Creek.
Indian.
I have native ancestors who were birthed from this land, this land known as the United States of America.
Land of the Free.
Free. Free? Freedom.
My ancestors were truly free. They took only what they needed. They praised Mother Earth. And she in turn protected and provided for them.
My ancestors were spiritual. They saw the unseen forces. They saw the inner workings of creation.
But now this land has hidden its secrets from all who live on it. Now this land cries.
My ancestors are no longer free.
A white race declared themselves supreme.
More superior than Mother Nature herself.
I resemble this white race.
My skin is that of snow.
I get the privileges of having a skin with no color.
Because my great great grandmother married a white man.
Married a white man to survive.
I have not experienced the hate of racism personally.
But I see it.
My ancestors live on through my eyes.
My eyes have seen. My ears have heard. My soul has felt.
And my ancestors will not let me stand still and watch this hate filled world go by.
Whiteness is the most evil weapon this world has endured.
That is still enduring.
Native “Americans” and all other beautiful people of color are tokenized, discriminatized, brutalized, and hypnotized to hate themselves by this power structure called whiteness.
My ancestors will not let me sleep.
Will not let me breathe if I do nothing.
That is why I must fight.
I must use this skin of no color to my advantage to tear down this invisible institution of racism.
My ancestors have opened my eyes.
My ancestors.
People of the Creek.