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Challenge of the Week CI
Traditions. "In 1621, the Plymouth colonists and Wampanoag Indians shared an autumn harvest feast that is acknowledged today as one of the first Thanksgiving celebrations in the colonies." Write about Native Americans, or other indigenous peoples. This could be an alternate history, a period piece, historical fiction, or whatever you like. Fiction or non-fiction, poetry or Prose.
batmaninwuhan

Just us people

It’s not truth to paint it all as idyllic shades.

They, fought each other.

Bloody encounters,

Massacres perpetrated,

Onerous demands of the powerful,

tributes and rapine was no stranger to the new land.

Stamping down the weak

Came with us all, from the jungle.

And the land moved between times.

Times of pleanty and peace,

Times of drought and blood.

They chopped trees,

They burned.

They drove extinctions

Dumb animals in thousands,

Stampeding to the edge.

Nothing different.

Nothing better.

And when the Europeans came,

They showed kindness,

They showed pity.

They were not heartless , after all.

The pilgrims, also differed.

Some brought the cross,

To brand and burn the skin.

Some brought just a hand stretched.

A hand stretched in love.

A hand stretched in need.

A hand stretched in blood.

Some saw the natives as innocent,

Some saw them as cruel.

Both relied on anacdotes witnessed,

Both relied on exxagerated lies.

We were not different.

We all know the ten commandments,

But we keep just two or three,

What is easy for our concience.

We were equally murderous,

Equally compassionate.

When the natives,

Slaughtered each other,

We cried in cheers and shock.

When we slaughtered the natives,

We cried in cheers and shock.

When we slaughtered each other,

We cried in cheers and shock.

Our guns were stronger.

Our regiments well fed, clothed, led.

They had advantages as well.

Each one using the

the weakpoints of the other cruelly.

In the end it made no difference who bled.

We all lost.

Our teeth, our decendent dentition

Made weak, worn out before we’re born.

From the unwripe bitter fruit consumed,

In ages gone.

And we turn again, as always,

Dividing, stamping, abusing, polluting.

We close doors, we break windows,

We burn and we condemn.

But life is stronger than anything.

The grass will grow after the blood flows.

But will we?