where the writers are
(In memory of those who once owned this land of plenty…)


Let us gather

The spirit is great for some ---

For some, the flesh unwilling. 

Remembrance strong-gnawing

At the bloodied bone, 

Still screams, massacres

Echo centuries

Of denial and desecration.

A festival of conquest

Becomes a feast of family,

Where this day the uninvited claw

At the groaning board, and

Eagle feathers drift

On the whimsical wind.