What more can be said
That has not already been said
Until it’s been said so many times
That we no longer sound sincere
“Indian man, we took your land,
Everything we have is secondhand.”
(Well, we DID.)
Isn’t it just a little late
To try to make reparations?
But what else can we do?
We can’t change any of the past
But, although we saved you for last
Now, maybe we can make it better for you
(or CAN we?)
I won’t gripe if you don’t pay taxes
Since we split up your land with our axes
And will it help if we pay your college bill?
(Since your burial ground is now a landfill)
No, I’m pretty sure you can’t have the land back
How much did we take? (I’ve lost track)
(Quite a bit, I guess)
Note on original manuscript:
“I don’t guess I’ve ever written a poem about the plight of the American Indian, although
I’ve wanted to. Perhaps I’ve never tried, because Matt Lawrence’s poem is so perfect. I
worry that if I write an “Ode to the American Indian”, it will either be a plagiarized &
paraphrased version of Matt’s poem, or that it will not be nearly as good.”
The quoted lines, 5 and 6, are from the aforementioned poem by M. Lawrence, a friend of mine in high school.