The Inuit in Me Speaks to the White … (another poem)

Why do you always insist that I become like you?

I’m not interested.

You lie, you cheat, you deceive
you poison yourself, you don’t know how to live -
or love – your neighbour.

You tell me you will teach me to read and write
- why do I need these things?

I know how to talk, I know how to be still.

You tell me you know this God, this spirit,
who watches over all and calls us brothers

- what are you driving at?

Why do you think I should suspend my natural suspicion of you
Just because you carry written words of some god’s Great Love?

- what is wrong with your love?

What is it that you want from me?
I am kind, I am generous, I also listen to you
Because I do, you think I am stupid.

I am not. You are.

You think you can destroy me as you force-feed me your words.
I know I am a prisoner of your curiosity.
You try your tricks on me. I am an experiment to you.
You use me – beat me with the strange rhythm of your tongues.
You think I will sing your songs one day.

I will not.

I drum with my own people.
I dream with my own people.
I will not command you to go away. It is not our way.
You will leave soon enough anyway –

It is you who are the homeless.

…